


To Love Your Majesty

by Peach_Pit



Series: His Majesty, Ignis Scientia [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Anxiety, Arachnophobia warning, Arguing, Blood, Canon Disabled Character, Cute, Danger, Drama, Emotional Hurt, Exploration, Feels, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Illnesses, M/M, Major Character Injury, Marriage Proposal, Post-Apocalypse, Propositions, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-11-04 17:23:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 59,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10995489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peach_Pit/pseuds/Peach_Pit
Summary: How do you propose to the world’s most powerful man?How do you continue to serve him after he rejects you?





	1. A Bloom in the Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I almost shit myself, dude.”

Crownsguard Chief Prompto Argentum waited on the outskirts of Insomnia, just before the great bridge. He fidgeted with his feet, boots digging into gravel and grass roadside, leaning against his chopper. What was taking the others so long?

He pushed himself upright off of his chopper, beginning to pace, tiny clouds of dust tailing him. It was about time to get going. He hated when others were late; it always stressed him out, as if he were going to be forgotten. Though, perhaps he had arrived a bit too early… _It’s no one else’s fault but my own_ , he thought. After all, he had set the time to be so early. He was no stranger to waiting, but it stressed him out nonetheless.

Still, it was already nearly noon. They would soon start losing daylight, and though the Decade of Darkness had long eradicated his fear of the night, he still found it inconvenient and tiring...especially on top of the task he had set out for his crew. He couldn't very well do it on his own, either.

Pulling his phone out from his pocket, he looked at the lockscreen. No notifications. For power’s sake, the guard only ever used cell communication for the most urgent needs. He still wanted to shoot Gladio a text. _“Hey, where the hell are you? I’ve been waiting forever!”_

While Prompto thought out what he’d write in his head, he heard the rumble of engines in the distance. Ah. As if he’d summoned them with his mind.

Kingsglaive Captain Gladiolus Amicitia and “The Immortal” advisor Cor Leonis pulled up on their choppers, coming to an abrupt stop just feet away from Prompto, equipment hitched to bags on either side of each vehicle. Gladio had with him a passenger in familiar garb, holding onto him firmly until they came to a full stop. Gladio flashed Prompto a look of tense, sincere apology before his passenger disembarked. It was the king.

“Ignis?”

“I hope you don’t mind,” said the king, brushing off his jacket, stepping in Prompto’s direction. He, too, wore the Kingsglaive-style armor Gladio and Prompto had donned. “I decided to join your little excursion today. You’ll need the help.”

“The king wouldn’t be dissuaded,” said Cor, looking Ignis’s way. “I think he’s bored.”

“Tried to tell ‘im nothing good’s waiting for him where we’re going,” Gladio grumbled. “Certainly no place for a king.”

“Yet we’ve assuredly gone through much more trouble with a _different_ king,” Ignis said, pulling his glove tighter. He approached Prompto merrily. “Am I a special case?” Ignis placed a hand upon Prompto’s shoulder. “Don’t start playing favorites, now.”

“You don’t have warping or phasing or god powers, you don’t have a friend who can warp or phase or has god powers —” Prompto’s gaze burned into Ignis’s blank eye. “—Or a helmet! And it’s worse now if something... _happens_ to you. It was bad then, sure, but it’s worse now. Dying isn’t _your_ duty anymore.”

Ignis left his hand on Prompto’s shoulder. He could feel the sinews tense beneath his jacket as the younger man swallowed. A quiet tension was shared between them, energies dancing in the company of their two closest confidants.

“I've been a decade and a half without those. You needn’t worry. It’s just a little outing; I’m not intent on dying today.” Ignis nodded a little. “Am I not still the ‘total badass’ you’d described to Noct just years ago? You don’t expect me to simply rot away on that throne, do you?”

Prompto memorized Ignis’s sweet smile before the taller man removed his hand and turned away.

“Shall we, then? We’ve kept Prompto waiting long enough.”

❦

A newly-discovered cavern rested a little bit to the east of Hammerhead Outpost. In surveying the land for valuable and useful minerals, the Lucian topology and geography team, headquartered in Insomnia, had discovered that this cavern ran deeper than anyone could accurately measure...and within lay precious metals such as mithril amid a myriad of gemstones. Word had gotten out to the people at large somewhere along the way, and several went to seek these riches, never to return.

The day’s mission was to seek out and rescue these unfortunate souls, as many as possible. Within his heart, Prompto harbored another intent: to secure for himself a ruby and some mithril.

The king’s presence complicated things.

Prompto revved his engine, speeding down the grand bridge leading into the common realms of Lucis, the others keeping beside him. He occasionally glanced toward Gladio and Ignis. Gladio was focused responsibly on the road, his hair blowing wildly from under his helmet to the side of Ignis’s face; Prompto saw Ignis’s arms wrapped tightly around Gladio’s abdomen and began to wish. Kept wishing.

Wishing the king would instead ride with him. Wishing it were his torso Ignis’s arms wrapped around. Wishing he could be Ignis’s meat shield.

Prompto turned his eyes forward. Another time.

Breaching the limits of outer Lucis, the group continued speeding down dusty and empty roads littered with the mechanical remnants of a fallen empire. At this rate, they’d ride to Hammerhead in another hour and their destination in two.

❦

The reason why the treasures of the cavern were little known became obvious as soon as the quartet set foot inside. Dense, slippery, and deep, this cavern was an arcane mystery ensconced at the farthest regions of the desert, only revealed thanks to the long-past ravaging of daemons and present bravery of explorers. This secret realm that had been broken open hosted a thick air, slick, coated surfaces, a steep way downward, and groans coming from far within.

Forgetting the groans, one could see how easy it was to become lost to this place.

“People came here? For _treasure_?” Prompto inched closer to the edge of the steep dropoff not far from the cavern’s entrance.

Gladio pulled him back by the shoulder. “I’ve seen people do stupider things for less.”

“I guess.” Prompto grabbed his rope from the supply cart hitched to his chopper and started swinging to gain momentum. Its claw was intended for the stalagmite across the gap.

“It’s deep,” Cor said, mostly to Ignis, swinging his own rope. “We’ve prepared for anything that may happen down there.”

“Imagine what other such places may have appeared out there in the Darkness,” Ignis mused.

“I’d rather not, based on the look of this place,” Prompto replied.

Two men hooked their ropes to neighboring stalagmites. They found their catches alongside long-abandoned ropes of would-be adventurers.

“We’re rappelling down,” said Gladio. Having prepared his own rope, he had Ignis climb onto his back, clinging around the shield. “Hold on tight, Your Majesty.”

The group swung with relative grace to opposing walls, ribbed-soled shoes keeping decent grip when they harshly met the slippery surface. Carefully down they descended into cooler and murkier terrain, finding their ropes ending just at the next level. Slipping down to firm ground, they saw before them a space that would be open were it not for the hordes of cave-dwelling critters inside.

Ignis could feel the tension rise in the air. He readied his sais.

“Normally I’d say for you to stay out of this, but…” Gladio began.

“We’re surrounded!” Prompto cried.

The small legion of buglike creatures attacked, advancing on the group rapidly. Sais slicing dexterously, katana stabbing through spiny exoskeletons, bullets cutting through the air, shield bashing back the onslaught — their response was honed, in sync. Before long, the horde began giving way and making a swift retreat.

“Oh? Did they change their minds?” Cor remarked, standing firm even after all the creatures vanished from sight into the many small holes he could now see lined the clammy chamber.

A deep, hissing growl emanated from seemingly every direction, a strange mist exiting the holes.

Descending from another hole in the ceiling, a queen spider, larger than the four men put together, sprung forth, pointed machetes of fangs oozing with venom. Without hesitation, the royal crew moved quickly to dodge the common monster’s acidic spit and remove its legs, immobilizing it before it became a bigger problem. Limbless, it writhed pathetically on the ground between them.

“Make sure you remove that little web-stinger-thingy,” Prompto said, pointing to its general rear area with his gun. As he said that, the creature snagged his gun with its web shot, attempting to pull it away.

Gladio crushed its head with the point of his shield. Its body wilted. “I had a better idea.”

De-webbing his weapon, Prompto grimaced at the sight. “I hate bugs as much as the next guy, but aren’t we trying to spare these things?”

“Seems like they’re doing fine down here.” Gladio yanked his messy shield back up, returning it to his back.

“Our wildlife initiative excludes insects, bugs, and other such creatures for this very reason,” said Ignis. “We’ll do what we can, but they tend to find ways to survive.”

“Good,” said Prompto. “I can’t control myself around creepy-crawlies. Never know what I might do.”

Cor located a human-sized hole leading deeper into the cavern — near it, a small, discarded supply bag. He took it into his possession. “We may slide through, but we may not be able to come back this way.”

“We always find a way back,” said Gladio.

Nodding, Cor and Prompto went through first, slipping through an unexpectedly steep shaft downward. Prompto somehow suppressed a shout as he dove downward into darkness. They both came to a harsh stop in the mud, Prompto nearly toppling over onto Cor as he landed.

“Rough landing!” Cor called back up, shaking off mud.

“Ya all right, old man?” Prompto said.

“In better shape than you,” Cor returned.

The largest man helped the king through this chute of a passage, Cor and Prompto ready to catch him when he arrived. Gladio arrived last, landing somehow more gracefully than the others.

“You’re braver than me, Ignis,” said Prompto with a grin. “I’d hate to do that in the dark.”

“Definitely something to get used to,” Ignis said.

“It really ain’t too bright in here, though,” said Gladio.

“Let’s keep it that way,” said Cor.

It was true: this area was almost completely cut off from the surface’s light. What little there was glinted off of the surfaces of adjacent walls. Were these the gems? Was the mithril nearby? A bit of running water separated them from further, more gem-dense areas, an underground stream reflecting the crystals’ soft glow. Altogether, it was just enough to see — and while the group was rightfully adverse to lingering in such absence of light, in the case of this strange place, it was known that light may draw out yet more unseen trouble. They proceeded cautiously, aiming to disturb little more of the cavern at the risk of their own lives and those of people trapped within.

Stepping forward, Ignis felt his feet brush against something not-rock-like. Turning his flashlight to face the king’s feet, Cor spied a water-engorged, decayed hand belonging to a marginally familiar person. A denizen of the city. Looking around, there were at least two more nearby, partially hanging out of the stream.

“Is it...” Ignis began. He took in the stench.

“Mm. Bodies.” The air was humid, but Gladio’s voice was dry.

“Doesn’t look like the fall killed them.” Cor inspected one of the corpses more closely, smokey blue eyes analyzing. Though their flesh was rotting in the moist environment and the darkness made it difficult to discern, he could make out spots where the bodies had clearly been pierced through. Further in the darkness were several discarded weapons, handguns mostly. They did not tell the whole story. He rose back to his feet. “As far as I can tell, this could’ve been done by man or beast. According to our reports, there could be a dozen more down here. We’ll have to organize a larger team in order to recover them. For now, let’s focus on the living.”

The group moved onward, stepping carefully through the area. Gladiolus stayed in front; Cor brought up the rear. Prompto stayed close beside Ignis — close enough to touch his hand. When he felt Prompto’s pinky brush against his, Ignis took Prompto’s hand and gave it a firm but quick squeeze, a subtle motion unseen in the dark.

It set Prompto’s heart ablaze.

Every time now, without fail, his heart would rush and his body would heat up. Ignis’s touch had been so rare lately — they both had been so busy — that even such a small gesture woke him from his near-constant fatigue. It refreshed him, like eight hours of solid sleep. Made him feel lighter, as if the dense air of the cavern wasn’t weighing down on him at all.

Gladio stopped abruptly, arms out, halting the team. “You guys see something?”

 _Click_.

“Wait,” said Ignis. “I hear so—”

A gunshot rang out in the darkness. Then another.

Ignis collapsed at Prompto’s side with a shout as the original shot ricocheted invisibly around them, then faded into silence.

“Ignis!” Gladio whipped back in Ignis’s direction, shielding him like a clamshell.

“Iggy!!” Prompto dove down beside Ignis.

The king had collapsed into the stream and mud, holding his side. The shot had pierced his midsection, blood quickly darkening his garb and running into the water, joining the viscera of abandoned, burst-open corpses.

Katana drawn, Cor headed in the direction from which the sound had come. “Keep him covered!” He ducked beside tall stalagmites as he proceeded ever more quietly toward the source of the gunshot.

Gladio couldn’t see shit. “Iggy, are you hit? Where?”

All he heard was a breathy gasp in response.

Prompto felt the king lean into him as he tried to help keep him in place. “Just hold on there, buddy — s-stay with me, here.” He fumbled in his bag for something, anything, that could help. He hadn’t brought anything powerful enough to save a royal life — hadn’t planned on this particular scenario. Foolish. All he could produce was a halfway expired potion.

Ignis drew his hand away from his side and licked his finger. His glove was soaked in blood. “...A lot for a mere scratch…”

“Hush,” Prompto said, still fumbling. He could feel his pores opening, lava searing through his veins, about to leak out.

Cor caught the glint of the end of a sawed-off shotgun retreating behind a rock and lunged over to it, katana aimed for the culprit — stopping just short of a familiar, doe-eyed woman. The blade pierced but one of her stray hairs before her eyes, a dirty face already welling up with tears.

“Iris?” Cor’s voice conveyed a rare shock.

“Oh — oh, my Six — Mr. Leonis —” Gasping, Iris’s eyes began darting around frantically. “I, I heard voices and —” She threw down her weapon and stumbled around Cor to catch sight of the others. Gladio was busy tying his belt strap around Ignis’s waist. “I thought it was more, more — oh, Six, Iggy, Gladdy—”

Gladio glanced upward as he finished tying the belt. Even in the dimmest light, he could see how bruised and filthy his sister was, normally-matching auburn eyes rendered dirt gray with days of fatigue. Shock and a deep sickness hit his stomach, but, all that came out was, “Iris, what the _fuck_ are you doing down here?”

“Gladdy, I’m sorry —”

Cor put away his weapon. “No time for tears. Prompto, take Iris. Gladio, let’s grab Ignis and head back up. Careful, now!”

❦

The arduous task of bringing the wounded king and Iris back out of the cavern grew even moreso as soon as Cor turned on the light. Forced to illuminate the space for the sake of expedience, the king losing blood at an alarming rate, what they’d feared slowly dawned on the group. Just along the penumbra of shadow, the buglike creatures from higher up lurked, following the team. There was no time to fight, and no room, as the space thinned to a tiny corridor while they struggled to find the way out. They had to fly before the light drew the critters in with another great swarm. Still, the sounds of their scuttling increased, slowly building around them in spite of their hurried pace. It got to be so that Prompto had to take a clump of them out with his gun every few steps, Iris crouched behind him and flicking off crawly intruders even as their pace increased.

“Keep moving,” Cor insisted as they rounded a corner through more creepy-crawlies.

As Gladio had predicted, they found another way back up, one devoid of deep-dwelling critters, beyond their approach. Out-of-the-way though it was, they managed to locate the way Iris had come down: a winding incline with just enough traction to serve as a stairway. They moved with deliberate speed — none of them could afford a fall with the injured king in tow, especially to slip back down to the critters that awaited them. Before long, daylight peeked from around the corner; they had climbed back to the outside world, a backdoor unseen from the more open areas of desert. Reception restored, Cor immediately made a call to the Citadel.

By the time they mounted their choppers, Ignis had nearly passed out from blood loss.

Gladio braced the king against him in front, riding while looking over his shoulders. He hit eighty as he focused on the road he’d memorized, the momentum of Ignis’s added weight making every move count. The others brought up the rear, rubber tearing on burning road. Iris kept her weak grip on Prompto as he sped to keep up with Gladio and Ignis. So concerned was he that he could not feel her presence. He felt numb; that is, until he saw Ignis sag against Gladio as if he let out all spirit. He watched as Gladio quickly grabbed to straighten him, clutching him closer, correcting the course of his ride.

Prompto felt the bottom of his stomach drop. His chest lit up with fire. His grip on the handles tight, the motorcycle propelled itself forward until it was even with Gladio’s.

“He’s passed out,” the large man shouted as he corrected for Ignis’s weight shift. “We’ll get there in forty.”

❦

Thirty minutes later, they pulled up at the Citadel, choppers screeching to a halt with long streaks across marble before a gathering of prepped Emergency Medical Technicians who quickly took the king into their care, whisking him to the medical ward.

Waiting for them, dressed and armed as if a battle could break at any moment, Commander Aranea Highwind stopped the team before they could proceed after the EMTs. She stood before the crew as concerned citizens looked on from a distance. “Exactly what the hell happened out there?”

“No time,” said Gladio, attempting to shove past her.

She drew her spear, driving it into the ground before him, the wide, black frame of her armor spreading out. “If you could help him now, you sure as hell could’ve done it back there. I ask again: what happened?” She looked at Iris, flipping up her helmet. “Girl have something to do with it?”

Iris sobbed, turning away and running in the direction the EMTs went.

“Iris!” Gladio called, to no avail.

“Weren’t you the Shield?” said Aranea. The words rolled off of her tongue sarcastically, but she’d intended for them to have an honest bite.

Gladio shot back a fiery gaze of amber. “Yep, and this is about as big a fuck-up as I can make, but I’d appreciate if you’d get off my back for one second so I can be there for my king.” He shoved past her in spite of her weapon.

“Bit too late for that.” Aranea withdrew her weapon. “Who would’ve thought a little girl with a gun and a little bit of darkness could get past you. Though, I guess _your_ sister would.”

Gladio stopped in his tracks. Without seeing his face, his clenched fist, brimming with veins, conveyed his response. He used every last ounce of restraint in his being.

“Commander, you should make yourself useful,” said Cor to the woman, his voice cold. “Have your men investigate how civilians are getting a hold of armor-piercing bullets.”

Aranea smiled. “Certainly, Mr. ‘The Immortal’.”

“Have some respect, for Six’s sake!” Gladio barked.

“Some of us believe in our king,” said Aranea. “After all, he’s the only reason I’m here. Dunno about the rest of you, but if he already made it through that hell of a ride, he’ll be fine.”

Prompto silently watched this volley of words and hostility the entire time, hardly able to move. The numbness had returned, all but paralyzed about the king’s state. What if his wound had become infected in that gods-forsaken place? What if he needed special treatment? Genuine medics were already few and far between. They had already pushed the limits of their capabilities within slowly-recovering Insomnia.

The blond regained his senses as Aranea voiced her hope. Watched her walk away, unshaken.

Yes.

Yes, of course. Ignis would make it. He’d made it through harder times...even on his own. He’d faced horrors untold, bore more wounds than most even realized, and not even for his own sake. Yes, something like this couldn’t take him down.

Prompto repeated these things to himself as he sat in the medical ward waiting room, even as the sound of gunshots still reverberated in his mind. Even if he couldn’t put away Ignis’s cry.

❦

Ignis woke to a quiet ward at some late hour. Barely stirring in his hospital bed, he listened to the room. Amid the dull hum of machines monitoring him and the continuous beeping synced with his heart, he could sense several others near him; most present, as she leaned partially into him on the bed’s side, was Iris, clean, her cuts and bruises bandaged, with her older brother standing nearby to the left. She had fallen asleep against the king. On the right, Prompto himself had nearly nodded off in his chair, scooted as closely to the bed as possible and leaning, before he noticed a change in Ignis’s breathing. His eyes flashed open, bolting upward, meeting Ignis’s waking face as he groaned.

“Ignis…”

Gladio looked over as Prompto placed a hand gently on Ignis’s shoulder. The large man shook his sister awake, then took out his phone, hitting speed dial.

 _“He’s up?”_ Cor’s voice.

“Yeah.”

_“I’ll be there in five.”_

Iris leaned off of Ignis as he attempted to scoot himself upright in the bed. A shooting pain spiked through his side, and he gave up immediately.

“Don’t move,” said Prompto, his voice laced with concern. “You got nicked good.”

Ignis carefully tucked his hand below the covers to feel the bandages about his side. Clearing his throat, he said, “Was barely a scratch. Though some scratches hurt more than others, I suppose.” His voice had drained of its usual energy.

Iris hugged Ignis as gently as she could, pressing against his shoulders, avoiding his torso. “Ignis, I’m...I’m so, so sorry…”

“Oh, Iris. I don’t blame you.” Ignis returned the hug with one arm. “Look on the bright side. You’re a pretty good shot.”

Rather than experience relief, Iris began to cry. Ignis sighed, leaning into her.

After her moment, Iris stood. “I’m going to get you something to eat, okay?”

“Don’t concern yourself, Iris — I’m not hungry.”

“I have to, Your Majesty. Excuse me.”

With that, Iris left. Ignis presently felt Gladio’s familiar, rough hands clasp his. The Shield dropped to one knee, leaning his forehead into their hands.

“I failed you,” he said. Ignis could feel him trembling the slightest bit.

“I do not blame you either, Gladio. After all, had I listened to you, I would be in no danger. Though I shudder to think what may have happened to you, or Cor, or Prompto.”

“Whether or not you blame me, I still failed to do my duty. I can’t even apologize for that.”

“Let it be known that I’ll never see it that way,” said Ignis. He withdrew his hand, only to squeeze Gladio’s, fingers wrapping gently around.

Cor came in at that moment, followed by a nurse. “Your Majesty.”

“Anything interesting happen while I was out, old man?” Ignis spoke slyly. His friends gathered around him made him feel more at ease in spite of the pain. Well, that and the nurse, who worked to check his vitals and keep him comfortable as their conversation continued.

“You’ll be pleased to know that they ran a successful blood drive for you,” Cor said, looking relieved himself. “We were even able to secure a couple more potions for the reserve. If our citizens can pull together so effectively for the sake of their king, surely they will continue to serve each other mutually in times of hardship.”

“Good to know. I’m grateful to the people of Lucis.”

“I gave some, too,” said Prompto, patting Ignis’s arm. “You’ll have to forgive me if I faint on ya soon.”

“Hang in there, Prompto. Get some orange juice.”

“Orange juice? For me? Seriously?” Such a luxury did sound nice around now, but Prompto felt as though he didn’t deserve it.

“Anything you need.”

The nurse stepped around Gladio to check Ignis’s IV. Cor took notice of the large man, who still kneeled quietly beside Ignis’s bed.

“Cor, can you tell this one to stop moping?” Ignis patted Gladio on the arm with a chuckle. “It could be worse.”

Cor hesitated before speaking. “Your Majesty, I have lost three kings. It never gets any easier.”

Ignis’s voice sobered. “There are realistic limitations to what you are capable of. Still, you are some of the strongest people in this world. I trust everyone in this room with my life completely. Do not think that you’ve failed to save me when I sit before you now.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Gladio finally stood back up. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

As Iris returned, tray of fruits and sandwiches in tow, Cor bowed out. “I take my leave, Your Majesty. We’ll debrief tomorrow.” He looked over Prompto and Gladiolus. “You two would best go home soon.”

Gladio nodded, following Cor. “Iris, don’t stay up too late. Your Majesty, my people will keep guard tonight.”

“When are you two going to knock off this ‘Your Majesty’ business?” Ignis snorted. “I wasn’t born royal, you know.”

“I’m told it’s simpler to embrace the title,” said Cor. “I suppose you’ll have whatever suits you.” He nodded reflexively, then disappeared through the dark doorway, Gladio following him.

The nurse also excused himself. “Looking good, Your Majesty. Call if you need anything.”

“Indeed,” Ignis nodded.

“Food’s here,” Prompto said.

Iris set the tray on the bed, first extending its legs so that it would sit above the king’s body. She and Prompto helped him sit up without hurting his side.

“Sorry it’s not much, Your Majesty,” said Iris. “It’s all I could get from the commissary right now.”

“You’ve done well enough, dear Iris.” Ignis truly wasn’t hungry — or rather, he had absolutely no appetite — but he accepted the chicken salad sandwich Iris handed to him and began working at it gradually.

“If you need anything else from me, please, _please_ let me know.”

“Iris, I would only like to know… Are you okay? Are you unharmed?”

Iris paused, wrapping her arms together nervously. “Yes… Yes, Your Majesty, I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” Her words wavered on the air.

“Iris.”

“...It was just so scary down there. I don’t even know where those men came from, why they kept coming… Didn’t they catch on?” She held her head in her hands. “Why did they…”

Prompto got up and hugged Iris tightly. She returned the embrace, not crying, but burning. Her waves of apprehension were familiar to the blond; he hadn’t felt such tension since he had faced Ardyn, alone. He wouldn’t forget those days. He couldn’t.

“Iris,” Ignis began, “please get some rest. Speak with me tomorrow at the debriefing. I’ll ensure that the situation’s made right.”

“Thanks, Iggy… You rest, too.” Iris looked to Prompto, meeting his eyes for the first time that night. “G’night, Prompto.”

“Night, Iris. Call me if you don’t feel all right, ‘kay?”

Iris nodded, taking her leave.

Prompto returned to Ignis’s side, sitting on the bed beside him. Ignis set down his half-eaten sandwich and felt around for the other foods available: an orange, a banana, and an apple. He lifted the orange.

“Prompto, take this orange. I won’t have you passing ou—”

Ignis’s words were cut off by Prompto’s lips pressing deeply into his. He parted his mouth again and allowed Prompto’s inside; teeth bumped together as Prompto claimed deep kiss after deep kiss, holding the king’s head softly in his hand, bracing himself with the other so that he wouldn’t fall into him or the tray. Ignis held Prompto’s arms as they lapped at each other’s mouths for another moment. When Prompto opened his eyes again, deep blue and dire, he took in Ignis’s weak expression and sighed.

“Ignis, I was mortified.”

“It was frightening.”

“I almost shit myself, dude.”

“Thank Shiva that Iris’s aim wasn’t _too_ good.”

Prompto leaned his forehead into Ignis’s. “I wish I had been shot instead.”

“Don’t speak such foolishness.”

Prompto drew back, taking Ignis’s hands into his own. Squeezing them tightly.

“Ignis… I told you, it’s not your duty to die anymore.”

“I’ve certainly learned my lesson, haven’t I?”

Ignis felt a few drops of warm water pelt his hand.

“Ignis… I…”

Bearing the pain, Ignis sat forward enough to draw Prompto into his embrace. He reached up to dry Prompto's face with his thumb. “I’m sorry, Prompto.”

“Don’t apologize, just —” Prompto choked a little. “I know it’s just same old, same old with us, but I’m not sure if I can take it anymore. Not like this.” He tried futilely to breathe more deeply, wind catching in his throat. “I dunno how Cor does it. How he goes on.”

“He is The Immortal.”

“Guess he has no choice. But...”

Continuing to hold him, Ignis cooed. “Prompto, I swear to you. We’ll start doing things differently. We’ll be safer.”

Prompto drew back to look into Ignis’s eye. Glossed over like pale snakeskin, he still saw in it the beautiful seafoam green of his past. His gorgeous, always sincere gaze pierced him even now. This milky white foam of a look washed away his anxiousness in ways none other could.

“...Thanks, Iggy.” Prompto gave another kiss to Ignis’s cheek, to his lips. Soft. Serene. Relief rose from his aura. Only Ignis could do this to him.

“Your chin is scratchy,” Ignis laughed. “You about ready to shave that? Clearly it isn’t gaining.”

“You’re one to talk,” Prompto scoffed playfully. “You’re beginning to look like an eviler version of Noct.”

“Evil? Me?”

“Yeah. Like some sort of mad scientist.”

“Am I...a sexy mad scientist?”

“All mad scientists are sexy, dude.”

They exchanged more playful kisses.

Not long after, Prompto passed out beside the king. Ignis closed his eyes and slept along with him.


	2. A Modest Proposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Why isn’t he saying anything?_

Jogging through the Citadel’s square, Prompto glanced up at the great statue of Noctis Lucis Caelum CXIV along his way. “Afternoon, Noct,” he greeted the titan of onyx, not skipping a beat. He turned the corner near where his favorite ramen stand used to be, headed down the stairs leading away from the plaza center. Finding where this place was was a serious pain in the ass. He knew the reasons, of course. Didn’t make it any less annoying.

He slipped through the abandoned subway station off of Main Street, temporarily departing from midday sun into artificial light. Thankfully, there weren’t any kids trying to play down here today. The power grid that kept Insomnia and most of Lucis lit even after the fall meant that places like this always stayed mostly lit, but it still wasn’t exactly safe; plus, like other areas of Insomnia, it had begun to overgrow with new life once the sun had dawned again. With bits of natural light streaming in from a small sinkhole near the middle, it seemed that nature would persist here, and the royal court would not obstruct it. Thus, it would be yet more years until the subway and its like were restored to any semblance of functionality in this partially-natural setting.

Sauntering along familiar old marble panels uprooted by undergrowth, he found himself choking back old memories of a past life and subconsciously increasing his pace. This new blossoming of nature was wondrous, but it did not cap his memories.

He breached the other end of the subway, entering into Grand Street, then crept to a side alley. More stairs would lead him to a darker, cooler spot lower than street level. A back-alley door that used to lead to a popular underground bar belonged now to a once-popular jeweler.

Prompto knocked on the door. A slit opened at eye level, another rough pair of black eyes staring back at him.

“Password.”

“Um… It’s me? Prompto, of the Crownsguard? The one and only?”

“Password.”

Prompto sighed. He heard another voice, a voice he could’ve heard all the way from Galdin Quay, ring through the tiny slit. “‘Ey, Prompto! Let ‘im in, Smith!”

With a grunt, the slit closed. Prompto heard multiple locks unlatch before the door opened. Prompto shuffled swiftly inside before the doorman slammed it back shut.

“‘Ey, there he is!” Dino Ghiranze leaned forward on the counter as Prompto approached. “Heard your mission didn’t go too well.” Dino tapped the newspaper that lay casually to the side, headlined  _ King in Recovery _ . “Good that the king’s all right and all, but a shame for me and my guys — hate to have to send ‘em back down to such a dangerous place. Least now we know.” He analyzed Prompto’s Glaive jacket. “Er, here on official business?”

“Oh, no,” Prompto started. Wearing the jacket had finally become natural to him. “Whenever I wear this, people tend to think I’m doing something important and won’t just stop me for just, whatever, you know.”

“Ah, I see. Smart. I’ll keep that in mind.” Dino gave Prompto a sly grin and finger guns.

“I do important things  _ sometimes _ , Dino.” Prompto gave the place a look around. Things were more locked down than the last time he visited; more precious pieces were no longer on display, and some of the containers were cased in steel bars. “Something happen, Dino?”

“Somethin’s always happenin’,” said Dino with a shrug. “No time to let your guard down, but of course you already know what I’m sayin’.”

Another man came out from the back of the shop, hand-polishing something that looked like bismuth. Prompto crept closer to Dino, leaning on the dusty counter, lowering his voice.

“I might have to talk to you about your guys. How many’d you send out, anyway? How do you keep in contact?”

“Just one,” said Dino. “Haven’t heard back, but it’s a pretty big job, after all. They’re probably on another hot trail right this minute. I got a good feelin’.”

_ I don’t _ , Prompto kept to himself.

“Maybe your guys’ll find ‘em next time.” Dino was upbeat, as usual. Prompto wasn’t sure if it was sheer carelessness or the utmost confidence. He idly wondered how Dino had gotten all of this information so quickly, but he supposed an investigative journalist had his ways.

“Were they armed?”

“Eh? Might’ve taken a gun for protection. Not too sure, myself. The only arms a jeweler needs is attached to his body, am I right?” Dino patted his own slender biceps through his dress shirt. “Though I guess a pickaxe also helps in this case.”

Prompto hesitated to tell Dino about the bodies they’d found in the cavern, or all the weapons nearby.

“I can see what else we can do for your  _ cause _ ,” the spiky-haired man continued, “but understand it’s gonna cost extra. That’s just business.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Prompto.

“‘Preciate you goin’ out of your way to try to secure the goods yourself though, in spite of the results. And for a good cause? Get outta here! You’re a darlin’, Prompto.”

“You don’t have to flatter me.” Prompto was a little flattered anyway.

“Mithril we can definitely do, but I ain’t so sure about rubies,” Dino continued. “Ya might wanna reconsider your choice a’ gem. We got lots of good quartz.”

“No… It has to be a ruby.”

“Ruby, you say?”

Prompto turned toward the new voice. Iris had joined them, a small satchel at her side. She looked surprised to see Prompto here.

“Oh, Prompto! What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing!” Prompto placed a hand on Iris’s shoulder, prompting a smile.

“She’s one a’ my guys,” said Dino, approaching Iris from across the counter. “Hey, ya shoulda wrote or something! We was getting worried!”

“Sorry, Dino. You know, my brother…” With an elegant gesture, she swooped a small, loose braid behind her ear.

“Yeah, yeah, when’s he getting deployed to Sector D or something so he won’t be constantly nosing around ya?”

“Wait, so, you’re...working for Dino? Gladio doesn’t know?” It wasn’t unbelievable to Prompto, but it just seemed strange. And, obviously, Dino hadn’t received the whole story of what had happened in the cave.

Good. It was better for all of them that way.

“I need the money, and I need not to give Gladdy any extra stress,” said the woman, looking away.

“I...don’t think you’re doing a very good job of that, Iris.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No… I can understand his feelings, but Gladio seriously needs to ease up on you. I mean, you’re thirty, right? It’s dangerous, but so’s what he’s doing.”

“Right! And he’s so —”

Dino cleared his throat.

“Right.” Iris opened her satchel and dumped its contents onto the countertop. What spilled out was mostly rubies, some emeralds and other precious metals and minerals mixed in. “This is what I managed to recover.”

“Whoa, how’d you manage to pocket all that! Ya hit the motherlode, didn’t ya?” Dino exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “I tell ya, a sight like this makes the heart of a true artist sing. Prompto, my man, you’re ever in luck.”

“Oh, are you here because you’re commissioning something?” Iris smiled at Prompto. “For who? What is it?”

Prompto’s face turned a faint shade of red. “Uh…” He was at a loss. After all, he hadn’t been prepared for anyone to ask him about this.

“It’s someone very, very, very, very, very,  _ very _ special, let’s just leave it at that,” Dino filled in with a grin, leaning over the counter.

Prompto poked his elbow into Dino’s cheek. “And that someone special...is me! I need another stat boost for my armor, that’s all.”

“Yeah, a plus-ten boost to Love!”

“You suck at lying, Prompto,” Iris said, eyes thinning. She prodded Prompto quite literally, poking into the shoulder of his jacket. “If it’s a secret, I won’t tell! I swear to the Six!” In the quiet moment that followed, reading Prompto’s stifled expression, it dawned on her. Gasping, she placed her hands over her mouth.

Prompto’s blush became more prominent, freckles burning into his face like tiny flecks of magma. “Iris…”

She threw her arms around Prompto’s shoulders, squeezing him tightly. “Oh, Prompto...Prompto. He’s going to love it. Six, I just know it.”

Prompto returned the hug a bit weakly. “Heh… You think so…?”

“Listen,” Dino said in an unusually low voice, breaking into the conversation, “I dunno much about this whole king-marrying business, ‘specially bein’ that all this is a reconstruction of society and all, but I say follow your heart, kid. With how it’ll look, he’ll have to say ‘yes’ — that’s a Dino Ghiranze guarantee!”

Prompto smiled gently as Iris drew away. She smiled the same way she did the first time she’d learned about those two. She was genuinely happy for them; such love was rarely seen these days.

“How soon can you do it, Dino?”

“You’re one a’ my VIP customers, so you can expect it in no time!” Dino winked at Prompto. “Come back early tomorrow,  _ capisce _ ?”

Prompto reached out to fistbump Dino. “I’m so glad you’re not dead, Dino.”

Dino reciprocated. “No more misunderstandings — no apocalypse can stop the D-man!”

❦

Prompto paced back and forth in his apartment bathroom, rolling a small black box between his fingers. Something didn’t seem quite right. If only he’d lain hands on a ruby himself...though he supposed his friend being the one who’d acquired one was just as good. She supported him all along, after all.

Perhaps it was too soon. But what was he waiting for?

He stopped abruptly in front of his mirror, jutting the box out toward his reflection. “My king, would you marry me?”

Shaking his head, he turned and paced again. Too corny. The novelty of Ignis's royalness had long worn off. Plus, there was no need for theatrics. He ran several scenarios through his head, rolling the box in one hand, scratching his peach fuzz of a goatee with the other.

He came to another stop before the mirror. “Ignis, would it be cool if we got hitched?”

Too casual.

Or...not casual enough?

Taking on a more demure mien, Prompto avoided his own reflection. “Heh… Iggy, I gotcha something.” Raising his face to the mirror, he held up the box and opened it to reveal the mithril and ruby ring, its thin veins knotted together like some combination of Lucian and Celtic that only someone like Dino could produce.

Holding it out as if to place it on a finger, the ring reflected in Prompto’s pale blue irises. Little more was as beautiful, except perhaps the man for which it was intended.

“Cool, right?”

He paused, letting the image of the ring linger in the mirror.

Replacing it, snapping the box back closed, he shook his head again. “I’m overthinking this.”

Still, how much longer could he wait? When was the right time? When weren’t they both busy, tired, or otherwise occupied?

He would just have to do it.

Pocketing the box, he grabbed his razor off the sink and a bit of soap, lathering up his chin.

❦

The blond found Ignis convalescing within the Spero Gardens, a community-started-and-supported patch of land not too far from the Citadel. Jasmine had just begun to bloom; the scent of the flower drifted in the air. Young trees shed their first blooms, and white petals filled crisp morning air, blanketing patches of blossoming wildflowers and cracked stone pathways. The king sat on a bench below a lovely flower arch. Someone had made for him a flower crown earlier in the day; it rested slightly sideways on his head. It suited him.

Prompto let his sight wander for a moment, absorbing this pristine tableau of the young ruler, before placing himself next to him. Not far off, two masked Kingsglaive waited in plain sight, their watch kept on the broader area. Another was more hidden within the topiaries of the garden. They had triangulated Ignis perfectly. That was good to see. He began to think that maybe he should have waited until later, when Ignis was alone in his quarters. He tried to suppress his tension before Ignis began to speak.

“Lovely morning, Prompto. The way it smells here is wonderful.”

“The garden is really fantastic. I wish that you could see it.”

Ignis took a deep breath. “Taking in its scent is as satisfying. On a bright day like today, I can picture it.”

“There’s lavender near the middle. Can you smell it?”

“Yes. I’m quite happy that they included it.”

“I put it in as a suggestion.”

Ignis smiled. “Astute as always, Prompto.”

A few falling blooms got stuck in Ignis’s hair. Prompto smiled; it just made the king look more like an elusive forest god, glowing under the sun. Prompto reached up slowly to touch his hair; he stopped himself halfway, folding his hands together on his lap. More tension boiled up into his chest.

“Heh, you look pretty nature-y right now.”

“A citizen named Mako made this flower crown for me earlier. Said they preferred it to my own crown.”

“I didn’t think you could get more beautiful.”

Prompto saw a faint blush come to Ignis’s ears as he continued facing his unseeing gaze out into the gardens. Prompto chuckled a little. The way the corners of Ignis’s lips turned up when he was happy truly warmed his heart.

“I used to question my appearance in the back of my mind,” said Ignis, “but the way that you make me feel, I no longer need to ask.”

Prompto scooted closer to Ignis, leaning into his ear, cooing playfully. “And how do I make you feel? Hmmm?”

Ignis smiled on reflex as Promoto’s breath teased the hair near his ear. “Prompto…”

“What did you call me the other week? Your little cuddlebird?” Prompto couldn’t hold back a laugh.

Neither could Ignis. “Yes, well… That’s how I felt.”

Ignis turned his face more in Prompto’s direction. Their lips hovered just inches apart. Prompto’s eye flicked over to the guard in the topiaries, then the others. All of them were looking away.

He swiftly grabbed Ignis’s lips with his own. Two quick ones.

Withdrawing, Prompto saw that the blush had spread to Ignis’s cheeks. His lightly tanned face warm with rushing blood, he looked even more picturesque. “Gods, you’re gorgeous.”

“You shaved.”

Prompto rubbed his neck. “Yeah, well...y’know. It wasn’t really, like...necessary...to have.”

“It took you a decade to grow that.”

“Not the  _ whole  _ decade! C’mon, gimme some credit!”

“I bet people can barely recognize you now.”

Ignis envisioned Prompto as he’d last seen him: bright hair that must flutter in a petal-scented breeze, freckles that darkened with blush, sky blue eyes reflecting his own image. And, finally, he could erase the chin scruff from his modified memory. Sure, he liked that it made Prompto happy, but he vastly preferred him without it.

He reached out to touch Prompto’s smooth face, gloved hand tracing its fingers and thumb down to his chin. “I’ll miss it.”

“You’re lying.”

Ignis couldn’t help but laugh again. Prompto joined him.

As they calmed, Prompto felt the anxiousness flutter again in his chest. He wished deeply that he could keep it cool, that he could be the suave and debonair man the king no doubt pictured in his mind.

It looked like then was as good as anytime.

“Hey, I...got you something.”

Ignis could feel the timbre of Prompto's voice shift. He could hear the younger man fumbling something out of his pocket. A gift? Had he forgotten his own birthday?

Inching himself even closer, Prompto gently took Ignis’s hand into his own. He gently began working off Ignis’s glove, loosening the wrist strap, pulling at the tips of each finger and then sliding the glove off entirely. He gently stroked Ignis’s warm palm with his fingertips, lingering against the feeling, before sliding the ring onto the appropriate finger. A perfect fit.

“I...It’s silly, but I wanted you to have it.” Prompto clasped his hand below Ignis’s. It was as if he could feel the king’s blood coursing along with his own.

Ignis traced this ring with his finger silently, feeling the Lucian-Celtic intricacies, the intimately carved gem. “It feels like it's beautifully crafted. Is this Dino’s work?”

“Yeah. Th-there’s a ruby. Iris found it for me.”

“Prompto...”

“I...really hope you like it.”

“What’s the occasion?”

Prompto practically stopped breathing. He thought maybe this would be enough. He should have rehearsed longer.

“A-ah. Y’know…” Prompto paused, combing the back of his mind for the words. “I got real scared the other day, you know. I… It was too close for you. For us. It reminded me of just how dangerous things still are. And I’ve...been holding back too much.” Though he couldn’t be seen, Prompto turned to Ignis fully. “I’d like you to marry me.” As if suddenly remembering, Prompto, still holding Ignis’s hand, shifted down onto the ground, kneeling. “Let’s always stand by each other. Please.” He rested his forehead upon their hands. Already his brow was flecked with beads of sweat; he hoped it wasn’t making Ignis too clammy. Feeling Ignis’s warmth, he anticipated the tone of Ignis’s answer. Would it be a low, sultry “Yes”? Would he simply nod? Should he look back up at him to see?

After a frozen moment, Ignis drew his hand away from Prompto. Prompto’s face flung upward, glancing up to see Ignis take his fingertips around the ring and remove it slowly.

Prompto felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. Felt it boil with acid and bile.

Ignis placed the ring back into Prompto’s palm, closing the fingers around it. “I...I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Prompto’s heart gave way, beginning to crumble apart. Maybe he had somehow misheard. Maybe he had, some way, misunderstood. Inside, all Prompto wanted was for them to own each other, a simple acknowledgement that they each had a heart to belong to. Yes, it was silly, a silly gesture, a tradition held over from a world long gone. Still, confusion.  _ He loves me, doesn’t he? Then why…? _

As Prompto’s world began to spiral, he could barely find the thoughts to even articulate these feelings. He felt as a volcano erupting through the ocean in the midst of a typhoon: burning betrayal, drowning confusion, suffocating sorrow, his senses rendered suddenly beyond his control as anxiety tore through him. The swirling torrent of feelings coalesced into an iron ball, sitting in his chest where his heart had been.

His expression of incredulity lost on Ignis, Prompto managed to choke out a few sounds that resembled words, breaking a prolonged and awkward silence with a desperation that Ignis could only hear. “Ignis, I love you.” The only words he could divulge. Words he could have said sooner.

Ignis turned away from Prompto. Were he to begin crying, Prompto shouldn’t know. “Now isn’t the time.”

Prompto grabbed his shoulder, trying to force him to turn, a fire shooting through his nervous system. “Then when?”

How long had it already been? They had known each other for decades, lusted for one another for decades. They had been each other’s rock, constant beacons in a world of turmoil. They had shared with each other more than any other person...and they needed each other more now than ever.

Prompto  _ knew _ this.

Ignis refused to face him directly, turned away from his voice completely, surrounded only by a quiet aura of shock. Prompto stood.

“H-how long have we known each other, Ignis? How much longer does it need to be? Tell me.”

The king refused to answer.

_ Why isn’t he saying anything? _

Prompto’s eyes glossed over, late morning sun glinting in a newly forming layer of tears. His breath hitched in his throat as he choked out another word. “Why?”

Nothing but silence. Not even a stray breath.

“What, do you…Do you wanna talk about it later? Would it be better in private?” Prompto breathed in sharply, trying to keep the tears from flowing. He lifted a heavy hand to rest on Ignis’s shoulder. The impact of it sent a jolt through Ignis. “We, we could go someplace where we can be alone, if that’s what you want.” Pleading, kneejerk desperation growing. “Or we could...just talk. Just... _ tell me _ .”

Prompto paused for any response. The silence was deafening.

His hand clenched around the ring, now burning in his grip. His knuckles turned white. He withdrew his other hand, now shaking with anger. “What, so suddenly I’m not even worth an explanation?” The feeling smoldered in his chest, nostrils flaring as he struggled to breathe normally, struggled to keep his voice down. “Or are you deaf now, too?”

Silence echoed in a drawn-out moment, all still but for the petals wafting in a gentle breeze. Prompto instantly regretted his words, the weight of them growing in his mind by the second, the burning of adrenaline coursing through his core as the place where his heart had been began to sting. There was no taking it back.

Ignis got to his feet with a groan, bearing his cane into stone, still not facing the other directly. 

It seemed now that the hurt was mutual. “I’m sorry, Prompto.”

All three Glaives were now looking in their direction. Gritting his teeth, Prompto stormed off before anyone could see the tears fall.

Sitting alone, soft gusts still carrying petals into his lap, Ignis raised his hand to his scarred eye. Sharp intakes of breath.

It never ceased to burn.

❦

Passing over Pontem De Lux, Prompto came to a halt at the crest of the bridge and stared out over the crisp blue river that divided the area. Opening his hands, panting with burning breath, he stared at the ruby whose shape had embedded itself in his red grip for the past several minutes. His face twisting into an indescribable mix of emotions, he turned and threw the ring with all of his might into the river, too far to even hear it splash.

_ Stupid… Stupid... _

❦

“Does anyone have any questions?”

Prompto stood before a chamber occupied with Crownsguard, face steel. Among them, he looked slightly out of place; after all, he’d taken to wearing the Glaive armor as if it were in line with this organization. While it had been modified to fit more appropriately, skull patterns hidden among intricate weavings, it remained largely unchanged. It did garner more respect than his old Crownsguard garb, which he still often wore casually.

Among faces young and old, none answered. The Guard was a real pastiche of characters, people of all shapes and colors who had lived in outer Lucis and beyond, all having proved themselves to Prompto and his friends personally. The fighting-able were fewer than twenty — and the strongest had been recruited to the Kingsglaive — but Prompto had organized and distributed the forces at his disposal with an efficacy few others could demonstrate. After all, he knew this city well.

“Good. Get to your posts, then — wait for instructions about the investigation.”

As the group was dismissed, Prompto himself headed to the evidence room of Crownsguard headquarters. Donning latex gloves, he inspected a familiar sawed-off shotgun and several other weapons — an elaborately-decorated bayonet, an oversized machete, a machine gun — curiously analyzing their weight and design. Most of these had been recovered from the cavern alongside the bodies he had witnessed the other week, and most of them were definitely weapons once used by King Regis’s Glaive.

He finally came to a stop before a familiar circular saw — one he himself had used and lost years earlier.  _ Where are people finding these? _ he wondered, rubbing his smooth chin.

Ah. He had forgotten about that.

What a stupid thing to have done, for a stupid reason.

Prompto stood frozen in reflection for another moment until a fire-haired woman broke into his thoughts.

“Chief Argentum? We may have sourced some of the newer weapons.”

“Oh.” Snapping out of it, Prompto turned toward her, seeing the small stack of papers in her hand. “Thank you.” He flipped through the pages, scanning quickly, eyes coming to rest upon a strange symbol, seemingly having been recreated from a photograph of a sleek handgun’s handle. A circle encased the shape of a flame, etched with the figure of Ifrit within.

“We’ve seen a man wearing this symbol before. Reportedly, there are others with it branded into their skin. Evidently, they belong to a group, name of ‘Initium Novum’. They’ve lain low this past while. We know that several members were formerly manufacturers, factory workers.”

Prompto nodded. “I’ll give this a thorough read tonight.”

The woman stood closer to Prompto, taking note of his puffy eyes, redder than usual. The rest of his face looked strangely drawn. “Are you okay, Sir?”

Damn. Just this one time, Prompto had let his weakness slip through. “Just a little tired, thanks.”

“Don’t stay up too late again, Sir.”

A weak smile. “No guarantees, Red.”

❦

All meetings at the Citadel had been called off for the rest of the day. Apparently, the king had again pushed himself too far and needed to rest.

Prompto hadn’t slept at all the previous night. An unusual fit of spite had Prompto wishing that Ignis hadn’t, either.

An afternoon like this would be spent most wisely on the burgeoning Sector B reconstruction project. There was certainly a shortage of manpower, and while certain areas had already been rebuilt within A and D in these few short years since the Dawn, there was still not enough growing space, nor enough rapport for the Lucian people to move back into homes comprised of rubble. Most people worked most days; the weekly Day of Rest, put forward by official decree but unenforced, found people working still. Free time was a luxury, especially among people of Prompto's rank.

Still, instead, Prompto stole an evening to himself, scaling the façade of the Citadel until he reached a comfortable sitting point behind one of the pillar statues, small body absorbed by its shadow. He’d done this several times before in boredom — once you’ve scaled Ravatogh, you could go pretty much anywhere — but now he wanted to distance himself from the world. Curling up into a small architectural alcove, cool stone encasing him as an ancient tomb untouched in centuries, he suppressed the urge to cry. He knew that it wasn’t still worth crying over. He  _ knew _ that Ignis could always have said “no” for perfectly valid reasons, spoken or not.

Still, his mind came back to it continually.

_ “I’m sorry, Prompto.” _

_ A face turned away from him, petals tumbling from spiky, ash-brown hair. _

Sorry? For what? For becoming king? For wasting his time? For making him love him so damn much?

_ “I can’t.” _

Couldn’t he? Or  _ wouldn’t  _ he?

What  _ can’t  _ the most powerful man in Eos do? Speak his true feelings? Commit to the only person who loves him like this? Marry a complete peasant?

Trembling, Prompto reached into his pocket and pulled out a single cigarette and a lighter. His hand continued to shake as he brought it up to his lips, quivering with uneven breath. It wouldn’t do any good to try smoking through sniveling tears and tightening throat, but he had to do  _ something _ before he had a full-on panic attack.

“Pathetic.”

Prompto gasped, the cigarette flying from his grasp and away through the air. Somehow, he hadn’t even noticed his company. Such was her way; if you could hear Aranea Highwind coming, something was wrong. He looked at her through clouded vision, unable to discern her visage of contempt as she sat beside him.

Prompto snorted harshly, trying to sharpen up. “You made me drop my cig.” He avoided wiping his eyes, not wanting to appear any more childish.

“Good. You don’t need ‘em. If I catch any of my people smoking, I pop ‘em one.” She grinned, making a fist.

“Good thing I’m not stationed under you.”

“Keep that up and you won’t even last another couple of years.”

Prompto looked away, streaking away salty streams with his thumb. He didn’t have to ask how she got up here, or even why, but he hoped his palpable apprehension would force her to leave.

“What’s got you long in the face this time, kid? Don’t tell me you’re still down in the dumps about ol’ Iggy.”

“Don’t talk to me about this.”

“I know guys like you. Guys like you need to talk, or else you’re gonna crash and burn. And if you go down, all the people that rely on you go down, too.” Aranea grabbed Prompto’s shoulder, turning him to face her. “Got it? So, talk.”

Still apprehensive, Prompto looked at her before glancing away, wiping his eye again. “What do you even want me to say? Sounds like you already know enough.”

“A girl has her ways of finding things out, true. Doesn’t change whatever…” She gestured generally toward Prompto’s entire body. “... _ this _ whole situation is. I know you can gab. What I wanna know is how long you’re gonna be bawling about it to yourself.”

“As long as I goddamn want.” Prompto turned away, shrugging her hand off of him. “I’m still working, aren’t I? What the hell more do you want? Swear you’re like Gladio sometimes.”

Aranea bristled. “Don’t you dare!”

“Yeah, well, try a different approach then. One that doesn’t make you sound like an unbelievable ass.”

“Would you take some advice?”

“From you? No.”

“My advice is to find you someone without any obligations.” Aranea crossed her arms. “Your Ignises, your Gladios, they have whole kingdoms, their sense of duty, et cetera, yadda yadda. Find someone just like you — all alone in this cruel, cruel world — and bed ‘em, quickly.”

Prompto grimaced, both amazed and disgusted. “That’s terrible advice.”

“Is it, though? To get over one man, get under another — my mother told me that.”

“...Okay.” Prompto laid his face into his hands. He couldn’t deal with this right now.

“Listen, if you can’t talk to me, at least talk to somebody. You’re pretty popular, yeah? People like you. Whether you want a talk or a lay, nobody in this city’d leave you hanging.”

“It’s a very private matter.” Said without looking up.

“Well, work it out.” Aranea made ready to leave. “You’ve got ears and shoulders besides mine, but I’m keeping an eye on you, Chief Argentum. Don’t let us down.”

Aranea departed from Prompto in her usual fashion, leaving him feeling hollow.

Watching her descent, he idly wondered what would have happened if he had followed her lead and leapt.

❦

Another week found the king having recovered much of his energy. Ignis followed Gladiolus down a grand corridor, steadying himself on the Shield’s arm, Cor tailing them. At the king’s side, Talcott Hester carried an armful of papers.

“The council’s approved moving onto phase two of the Royal Tomb mapping initiative, if you would sign this.” Talcott handed Ignis the next off of his stack of paperwork, along with a pen.

“Very good.” Ignis signed effortlessly, a regal-looking, red-penned “X” in the lower right corner, passing it back without skipping a beat.

“Also, the Crownsguard has assumed their new positioning within the city. At this point, 80% of the most critical areas should be covered by at least one unit.”

Ignis paused momentarily, his retinue halting along with him. “Yes. Yes, that’s excellent.”

“Their current high-priority investigation may give our forces access to magic again. However...it may be the kind of magic we actually need to put a stop to. Has the chief spoken with you about it yet?”

“I’m keeping my ears to the ground on the matter.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“Your Majesty, this is a pivotal time,” interjected Cor. “Do keep your ear close to the Guard. The information they have access to will help keep our efforts focused.”

“Duly noted.” Ignis’s voice ran steady.

From the upcoming adjoining hallway, Ignis heard a voice addressing the Crownsguard Chief.

“Chief Argentum, I’m sorry, but can you  _ please  _ cover my shift? My nephew is very sick, you see, and someone needs to take care of him.”

A gentle voice answered back, “Of course. Let me know if you need to get your hands on any more medicine tonight and I’ll see if I can have it sent over.”

“Thank you so much, sir.”

When Prompto’s company departed, he noticed Ignis and the others standing just beyond the archway of this intersection. A coldness entering his eyes, he turned and left wordlessly. Ignis listened as familiar footsteps distanced from him.

His company watched him listen.

❦

Prompto sat on the base of the Noctis statue at the square, knees drawn up into his arms. Rare sylleblossoms had been planted around the statue, and normally their scent would set Prompto at ease. Normally, being near his friend would calm him. Today, his mind would find no solace. Closing his eyes, leaning his head on his knees, he allowed himself to tumble freely into his thoughts.

_ Sorry, Noct. You put your faith in me, but I feel like I’m already letting you down. I have to get stronger on my own for once, without Gladio, or…  _ He paused in thought. _ ...Where do you even get strength like that? Emotional strength… It’s not like I can get on a treadmill and gradually become less of a pussy. _

He pictured Cor in his mind’s eye, the older man with his constant, cool stoicism. How would The Immortal react if the love of his life rejected his proposal? With his bottomless wells of steadfast courage, he would get along just fine, without a single doubt. All Prompto had to do was believe that he would as well.

But he couldn’t actually ask Cor. He’d never ask him about something like this.

And he couldn’t talk to Gladio. He already knew how Gladio handled this sort of situation — which is to say, poorly, even more so than Aranea. It took Prompto every ounce of nerve not to crack around that man, a level of nerve built up over years of quiet self-isolation.

He could believe in Ignis’s happiness. If Ignis were happier this way, it’d be (mostly) fine.

If he were.

Prompto felt a familiar presence take its seat near him. Speak of the devil. Ignis breathed lightly, saying nothing. A buzzing apprehension rose in Prompto’s chest, pressing into his throat, as he viewed the man through slits of eyelids; he wasn’t ready to be king-adjacent when he didn’t have to be. Why did he even come here?

Tense silence bound them to their spots for minutes. Prompto darted his eyes away. He felt the aversion in him growing, again, that typhoon of anxiousness and pain swirling, a tempest of unrest bordering on pure disdain. The pressure would not even allow him to ignore it. He glanced again from the corners of his eyes. Ignis appeared to be praying.

Unfolding his legs, Prompto finally got to his feet. As he began to walk off, fast and familiar shuffling getting caught in Ignis’s ear, the king reached weakly upward, hand barely traveling from his body, little more than a soft cough escaping his trachea. Prompto stopped in his tracks momentarily. Ignis’s desire to say anything fizzled away as quickly as it had risen; he hadn’t come to the statue for Prompto’s sake.

Gritting his teeth, Prompto continued on his way. 

_ Not today. _


	3. A Flash of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Weak for him._

“Prompto, can I touch your gun?”

“‘ _ May _ I.’ And I told you a bajillion times, Miguel,  _ no _ .”

“Aww!”

The kids on Nox Street were swarming today, annoying to an almost unusual degree. It warmed Prompto’s heart. With how few children he’d seen in the past decade-and-a-half, just to be present in their energy was a welcome reprieve from adult life. Even at their most troublesome, they instilled in him a sense of hope.

“We just wanna  _ touch _ it, not even  _ hold _ it,” said another small, long-haired child, tugging at Prompto’s coat.

“It’s dangerous, Maria,” Prompto said, forming gun shapes with his hands.

“Where’d you get your guns, Prompto?” The tugging continued.

“They were gifts from a friend.” Prompto smiled, a nostalgic look on his face. “If you ever come to the Citadel plaza, I can introduce you.”

“How many big monsters did you blast with them?” Miguel always loved Prompto’s stories, even if he told them a hundred times.

“Hundreds. Blew a buncha Iron Giants’ heads clean off with these.” He took aim with his fingers at a nearby tree. “When I used Piercer… Pew pew! Like that. That’s why only I can touch ‘em. Otherwise, something scary might happen. Something _ completely unlike _ …”

With one swift movement, Prompto whipped two party poppers out of his pockets and blasted them over the kids, sending confetti and streamers billowing overhead. They all laughed and cheered, grabbing at the gentle confetti raining down like flower petals.

“Yaaay!” “You’re the best, Prompto!” “Do it again!”

“Sorry, kids, that’s all I got,” said Prompto. “ _ But _ if you continue being good and keep staying away from guns, I might be able to sneak y’all some cake from the commissary.”

“Woo hoo!” “Caaake!” “I want lemon.”

Prompto waved good-bye to the kids as they made their way back to the shelter and set off for Crownsguard HQ. Before he got very far, he noticed that one of the kids was tailing him.

“Maria, you should join your brother and get home before it gets too late.”

“Sorry, Prompto…”

“Something the matter?”

“Sorry I said I wanted to touch your gun.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know you’re a smart kid.” He ruffled her hair a little, and she laughed.

“Prompto, last night I saw a man in black with a really big gun.” She stretched her arms as if to approximate the length of its barrel. “It was really big and heavy-looking. He took it into the shadow with him.”

Prompto’s brow furrowed. “Where was this?”

“Um…” The little girl clammed up. “I forgot.”

“Maria, I can’t keep giving you candy for information. Stuff’s bad for your teeth. And besides, it’s also hard to get.”

“But I really did forget.”

“Oh.”

Maria tried her hardest to remember, little face scrunching up into a button nose. “Um… It was… By the statue?”

“By the statue…” Prompto puzzled. She couldn’t have meant the Noctis statue. Not only was there nothing nearby for anyone to disappear into but the Citadel, but it was also further out than the kids ever usually wandered.

Wait.

Ah, right. He knew what she meant.

He pulled the child into a gentle hug. “Maria, thank you. I think you’ve just told me something very important.”

She gave him a cheery smile.“You’re welcome, Prompto!”

❦

Prompto increased his step, intending to return to HQ before sundown to mobilize the Guard. Along the way, he stopped near the grand statue of Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, carved of tender white marble. Even now, her silken frame poised against the sunset, sylleblossoms framing the perimeter of her brilliance, the vision of her inspired him. How strongly he felt her presence among those blossoms; how badly he had wanted to meet her. He hoped still that he might someday.

Returning his mind to the moment, he fixed his gaze on the inset lines running perpendicular along the statue’s tall base, shaded behind the sunset. He spied a discarded bullet shell lying in the grooves between the stone pathway before it. Yes. There it is. He could hardly believe that such a sacred place had fallen dark, but he supposed he had seen worse.

Before he could turn to leave, he spied a familiar truck rolling towards him. It came to a stop not far away, a baby-faced young man waving from the open window.

“Prompto! I-I mean, Chief Argentum!” Talcott popped open the door and hopped out, pulling a messenger bag along with him. “There you are!”

“Evening, Talcott.” Prompto scrutinized the young man’s bag with a bemused look. “Are you a messenger now?”

“I’m whatever my king needs me to be,” Talcott answered.

Yes. Of course. Many were filling multiple roles here within the city and beyond, Prompto himself included. He’d hate to see sweet Talcott run ragged, but this world demanded so much of everybody...even of those children on Nox. “You’re too good for your own sake, kid.” He patted the younger man on the shoulder. “So...the king sent you?”

“I wasn’t needed at the Citadel this evening, so I checked to see if the Guard needed anything. Didn’t think I’d find you here, but it’s good we happened to be in the same neighborhood.” Talcott opened his bag and handed Prompto one sheet of paper. “I made a copy of this report for you at the Deputy’s request.” The paper had some writing in addition to copied photos of a myriad of weapons, mostly different types of guns, lined up on shelves and walls. “It’s...technically classified, but there’s not a lot of people out, and no one’s followed me.”

“It’s fine — the sooner I know this stuff, the better.”

“Biggs managed to dredge this up somehow. If the timestamps are to be believed, then this is photographic evidence that weapons are being mass produced somewhere in secret. But where, I wonder… Sorry there isn’t more info to deliver.”

“Talcott, my man, you always deliver right when I need you to.” He awarded Talcott with a genuine smile. “Keep on keepin’ on.”

“Thanks, Chief Argentum…” Talcott gave a meek smile in return.

“Prompto! P-R-O-M-P-T-O! None of this ‘Chief’ business from you, all right? You feel me?”

Talcott’s smile grew. “All right, Prompto.”

❦

Vital members of the Crownsguard assembled at HQ.

“We have the Glaive on alert in case anything goes sideways,” said Deputy Celes Chere to the room.

“The lower routes of escape have already been covered by our units, including Interceptor units,” Prompto added, gesturing to a map of underground tunnels in the Nox district. “We’re going in swift. Remember, we’re dealing with heavily armed men and potentially heavy machinery. We’ll have the advantage of close quarters and darkness on our side. It’s possible they are in possession of powerful weapons such as the bio blaster, but, down below, they’ll be much less likely to use such dangerous AOE weapons. If you see any such weapons or Glaive originals, reclaim them immediately if possible.”

“Remember, we’re to seize this operation with as little loss of life as possible. Keep an eye out for Bertram.”

“Everybody to your positions. Wait until I give the signal to move.”

As the Guard dispersed, Celes came up to Prompto with concern.

“Chief, you sure you’re up to this tonight? We’re coming in hot, and I’m certain we won’t be unexpected.”

“I popped some NRG so I’m rarin’ to go,” Prompto said, bouncing in place. Celes raised a pale eyebrow. “Ah, don’t look at me that way. If the iron’s hot, we’ve got to strike. Like I said, we’ve got the advantage. ‘Sides, if that son of a bitch Bertram lied to me, I wanna get justice over with so I can be done being upset.”

“This can be in-and-out, Prompto, so try to leave your feelings out of it.”

She didn’t know. The NRG pill was one of few things that could stave off panic attacks, at least for him. It was better that she didn’t know that gray-market drugs were letting him do his job properly, accidental and relatively rare cases that they were. The surge would hit soon, and he’d forget all about Ignis’s slight.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.”

Joining the Guard gathered outside of HQ, Prompto set off with them to the Nox district.

❦

The passageways deep beneath the statue of Lunafreya were once part of a large network of tunnels intended to direct the royal family to safety in times of crisis. Before Niflheim had begun its advance on the world, the line of kings could find its way even through the sea via these tunnels. The empire’s last stand had caused much of it to flood, to close off, to cave in, but its upper levels within the city’s least scathed region still stood. Long corridors without outlet served as the perfect place to hide weaponry.

As Prompto finished sliding open the secret passage at the base of the statue, the Crownsguard flooded in in advance of him. Armed with guns, spears, and daggers, those who had been trained by Ignis, Prompto, and Cor moved confidently with limited sight into silent quarters.

The short walkway quickly sloped downward, leading to short ladders and more slopes, eventually branching into three paths when the entrance was too high to be seen. Three people and an Interceptor followed Celes into the leftmost one, while Major Ultros, with his Interceptor and two more, went right. Prompto took his Interceptor down the middle with one more person in his company.

He had felt fine until this very moment. Here, as the tunnel darkened, he felt his blood run like molten lava. It had been some time since he’d been involved in anything this dangerous. It had been longer since he’d fought without Noct’s power.

No, now was no time for self-doubt. If there was one thing no one questioned about Prompto Argentum, it was his ability to shoot things. In the face.

Besides, he needed to protect Ignis —

No. No, he needed to protect the people foremost. Ignis’s protection was just a consequence of him doing his duty.

Gun in hand, arms extended forward, Prompto proceeded after his Interceptor.

His crew sloshed quietly through ankle-deep water. How anyone managed to use this place to store weapons was beyond him. Up ahead, stairs beneath dim lights would lead to dry land and a likely boatload of machinery. What else waited was yet to be seen.

He placed his foot on the first stair, taking care not to make extra noise. When the Interceptor reached the top stair, a golf ball-sized object landed near it, quickly erupting into smoke.

“Look out!” Prompto’s partner shouted.

They both dove to the side as gunfire ripped through smoke. The dog disappeared into the misty gas, letting out a cry moments later.

Prompto crawled behind a metal table laden with weapons. From this lower vantage point, he could see several iron-clad boots proceeding forward. Taking aim, he pegged them in the legs one by one, taking them down before getting back to his feet.

Running, he came to a halt in a clearing between tables. The smoke had almost cleared, revealing the halted assembly line and a deeper wall of weapons beyond; before him stood a gas-masked man holding an old, familiar bio blaster.

“Crownsguard! Drop it!” Prompto drew his second gun, taking aim.

He had but another second to decide to shoot. When he did, the other had already pulled the trigger. Green, gaseous matter spilled uncontrollably into the air as the bullet pierced the man’s heart, sending him and the weapon toppling over. The corrosive poison continued leaking into the dead-end chamber. Prompto covered his nose in the crook of his elbow and turned back, calling for his partner. “Brunus, let’s go!”

As he leapt back into the watery corridor, Brunus joined him, only to stumble and fall. Prompto slowed to look back, unstopping...until a gunshot ran out, pelting his partner in the back.

“Brunus!!”

Brunus’s blood stained the water a deep red visible even in dim light. It had been just dim enough for Prompto not to see his expression as his body hit the water. Prompto’s vision blurred slightly. It wasn’t that they were particularly close; in fact, they had barely even spoken. But the surge of adrenaline punched his heart. His anxiety spiked through his core out through his limbs as the fresh corpse sagged into the water, knowing his could be next.

_ Dammit. Gods damn it. _

Prompto dragged himself away from the scene before the armed man could shoot him as well.

He turned the corner into the leftmost chamber, where he saw Celes and her partners escaping a similar scene, coughing. “Right off the bat,” she said, ceaseless.

“They’re tailing you,” said Prompto, running at her side.

“Let them follow us.”

Prompto took out his radio. “Up and out, guys. We’ve got no place else to go, and neither do they.”

They headed back out the way they came, bullets whizzing past as they scrambled to grip the steel ladders stapled into stone, Prompto returning fire blindly and ineffectively between climbs. They were joined by Ultros and one of his people as they dove back out through the statue’s base. Prompto paused to shoot again at the entrance’s threshold; Celes pulled him out of the way in time to avoid more fire that blasted apart pieces of the stone opening where he’d stood. Those armed with guns stood ready to fire on anyone who emerged. It was only a matter of time before the poison forced them out.

One unfortunate soul attempted to shoot from the opening and was pegged by one of Ultros’s bullets. A long silence followed, any slight sound absorbed by the black of night. The streetlamps had been switched off in the district, and the Crownsguard trained their eyes on anything catching the glow of moonlight.

“It didn’t have to be like this,” Celes said, tensing beside Prompto. “Why won’t they surrender?”

“They’ve got an ace.”

Through his words, Prompto’s arms shook. His gun remained loosely trained on the entrance, heartbeat pulsing through his muscles.  _ Like fish in a barrel, right? What’s wrong with you now?  _ He blinked hard and forced a deep breath, trying to regain his focus. His sight remained wobbly. Adjusting his grip on his twin guns, he felt his hands tingling.

Not now.

He had to prove himself in this fairly important task, because if he failed, he would have to face Ignis again.

He wasn’t ready.

He would rather die.

But that wasn’t an option.

_ Not now. _

The sound of an engine below the statue revved into sudden loudness.  _ Ah, there it is, _ Prompto thought. The group tensed as the noise silenced; then, from the depths below the statue, what appeared to be a small, reconstituted Magitek suit burst out, crumbling and toppling the statue as though it were pie crust. As newly-created debris rolled away from the machine, it took aim at the Guard with its right arm, a large gun bordering on canon-size.

Prompto screamed, “Get down!”

All units hit the ground, some jumping the short wall bordering the small plaza, as the cannon let loose a beam of fire that singed cleanly into stone. The blast lasted mere seconds before dissipating, leaving its molten trace up to the northern wall, trees nearby catching fire. The cannon made a noise as if it were recharging, a low whirring noise slowly escalating.

Behind the wall, Prompto fumbled for his radio, forcing his arms and hand to still long enough for him to press the button. “Magitek armor engaged, unit down. R-request backup.”

He dropped it when he heard gunfire exchange from beyond the wall. People had begun to pile out of the below-ground chamber behind the Magitek armor, bringing the full force of Crownsguard-tier firepower with long and heavy machinery. He heard voices ring out in agony, the exchange of gunfire, brave dogs putting up their struggles.

Steeling himself, he gripped both his guns and popped over the edge of the low wall, firing straight ahead before again withdrawing. Bullets whizzed overhead. The charging noise hit a higher key.

Celes crawled closer to Prompto. “Chief, I’m going to try the thing.”

“You might get yourself killed.”

“Yeah, but I doubt it.”

As the cannon reached a fever pitch, barrel glowing red inside, Celes rose, drawing her rapier from the sheath and pointing it directly at the large weapon. Prompto dove out of the way as it flashed its beam toward Celes. As if it were mere flecks of dust, the beam was halted and dismantled bit by bit a the tip of the sword, its energy transferring into it. Celes stood her ground, the sword’s absorption powerful enough even to neutralize momentum. When it ceased, red light blinking back into darkness, she lifted her sword, glowing with the great energy it had taken in, and flung it back at the piece of armor. It burst into flame, knocking out and toppling onto several of the assailants just in time for Gladiolus to arrive and witness.

“Celes did the thing, huh?” Gladiolus said, picking one downed Guard up off the ground. “Don’t seem like I’m needed here.” He looked up to see one of the assailants rise from beyond the flaming wreckage, firing at Celes before she could withdraw. “No!”

Celes fell beside Prompto, crumpling into the ground. Prompto dove to her side, heart pounding through his armor. She looked up at him, wincing. Only her arm was bleeding.

“Keep cover, Deputy,” he said, quickly wrapping her arm with his handkerchief. “You’ve done good.”

When Prompto rose again, he saw two attackers attempting to flee and pursued them from behind the wall. As they distanced themselves, avoiding his fire, he managed to dodge their attack narrowly as he reached a higher segment of the wall. Bullets riddled its stone, their force cracking through to the opposing side. Prompto paused to catch his breath, tight palms numb against gun handles. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could go.

_ No, this is fine. Most of us are still up. We’re doing good. We’re okay. We’re okay. _

A voice came through on Prompto’s radio. Cor’s.  _ “I’ve got sight of them, Prompto. I’ll take it from here.” _

“Don’t bring a sword to a gunfight, Cor!”

_ “Too late.” _

Gladio’s voice came in next.  _ “We’re sweeping. You make sure the area’s clear of civilians, Chief.” _

Prompto took another deep breath. “Right.”  _ Right. Think of the civilians. _

Lights out meant that any civilians that would normally be in the area should be at home or elsewhere, but one couldn’t know for certain — such was the case with the Nox Street kids, as used to the dark as they were.

Prompto scaled the wall, laying low against the flat top to help mask and silhouette. To his right, the battle had died down, bodies lying in the light of a smoldering machination and burning trees; just beyond, to his left, he witnessed the outline of Cor cleave through the shadowed arm of an assailant with his long katana, then another. He couldn’t tell how much of the Guard was down. He also didn’t see any small figures flitting around in the dark; the kids were smart enough to stay away from such chaos.

In the heavy stillness of the night, he got to his feet atop the wall, grabbing his radio. “We clear? Looks clear from here.”

_ “No hostile movement detected,”  _ Cor’s voice returned.

_ “All clear at three o’clock,”  _ said Gladio.

_ “We’re good down here,”  _ Celes chimed in.

Prompto turned to see Celes joining the rest of the Guard in the light of the fire. Gladio continued to help pick up the wounded on the fringe of the battlefield.

He caught a lower tone on the still-open radio.

_ “Ignis could have  _ beasted  _ these fools.” _

_ “You nuts? We’re not letting the king even a mile within range of whatever this faux-Magitek is.” _

_ “Imagine how much worse off we’d be if Ignis hogged you and the old guy all to himself.” _

As if a latch released, Prompto felt his heart drop in his chest cavity, grip weakening on his guns. The air had become thick like molasses; he struggled to continue standing upright on this strip of wall between Nox and Lux, drawing breaths laboriously into burning lungs.

_ No… It’s not… _

_ I need to focus... _

_ I can’t… _

_ I won’t… _

He had to be stronger.

Yet he couldn’t stave it off any longer.

_ [Gladio] and [Cor]. _

Not him.

His mind flooded with thoughts of  _ everything _ , weighing his body and staggering him, questions no one could answer.

_ Am I strong enough? _

_ Am I strong enough for Ignis? _

_ He knows I can’t keep doing this. I even told him. _

_ Why did I tell him that? _

_ He knows I’m weak. _

_ Too weak for him. _

_ Weak for him. _

_ I love him. I love him so much. _

_ Isn’t that all I could’ve said? _

_ Why? _

_ Can’t we just— _

_ No. _

_ ‘Are you deaf now?’ _

_ It’s too late. _

_ He hates me. He wants me to die. _

_ I want to die. _

In less than five seconds, his guns slipped from his grip, clacking against the wall as they tumbled through the tall shrubberies below. He grabbed his head as if to prevent it from bursting, squeezing his eyes shut.  _ No…! I won’t— _

It could have been a ghost, an animal, a comrade — something swirled on his periphery, a figure caught only briefly in sight.

Cor’s voice rang through.  _ “Prompto! Twelve o’clock!” _

Prompto didn’t have time to look.

_ Bang _ .

A single gunshot tore through the air, bursting through the right side of Prompto’s chest and out through his back.

Prompto heard voices mesh together in the distance as he fell back. The air, cold and still, cut through him as his vision grew white, fading to visions of a life he couldn’t unsee.

_ He saw an empty, well-furnished house. _

_ He saw the puppy he had called “Tiny”. _

_ He saw Noctis as a child from around the corner of the school’s main building. _

_ He saw Noctis studying, faux-Tenebraean pastries strewn around college books. _

_ He saw Gladio in his backwards cap, breaking up him and Noctis playing hooky at the arcade. _

_ Then Gladio was saving him from the rampage of a dualhorn. _

_ Ignis finished off the beast with a swift jab of his lance. _

_ Long stretches of desert passed in the Regalia. _

_ Empty plates around the campfire. _

_ A tiny, black chocobo. _

_ The view of all of Lucis from the peak of Ravatogh. _

_ Umbra. _

_ Ignis finally confessed how he felt to Prompto alone in their tent. _

_ Ardyn’s touch, cold as ice. _

_ A snowy wasteland. _

_ The last time he ever saw Noct. _

_ The dawn that followed. _

_ The night of Ignis’s coronation. How much he’d loved Ignis that night. _

_ Every time Ignis would dip his chin to kiss Prompto’s head. “It’s okay, Prompto.” _

_ “It’s okay, Prompto.” _

_ “It’s okay, Prompto.” _

_ “It’s okay, Prompto.” _

_ “It’s okay, Prompto.” _

_ “It’s okay, Prompto.” _

The blinding white light resembled that fateful morning in the Spero Gardens. Ignis’s form was blown out nearly to all white, harsh shadow outlining his figure; petals flowed from his crown, swirling all around him. Prompto reached for him.

_ “Hang in there, Prompto.” _

“Ig...gy…” Prompto threaded his fingers desperately into Ignis’s robes as he drew closer.

“Prompto!”

Gladio bellowed, holding Prompto in his arms. “Prompto, just hang in there!” Lifting him carefully, warm blood coursing down his arm from Prompto’s back, he ran the smaller man over to his chopper as he continued clinging to him, convulsing with shock.

Prompto clutched Gladio’s jacket, blood oozing from the corners of his mouth as he tried again to speak. “Ig...gy…”

“S-shut up! I’m trying to get you to the hospital!” Gladiolus strapped Prompto to himself as he pulled him on board, the large man choking back emotions. His mind and eyes had to be clear if he wanted to keep Prompto alive.

He flicked on the lights and peeled out, Cor following close behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The FFVI references have begun. I have a fav.
> 
> I won't be updating next week because an event is happening. I'm sorry!!! I will update again in two weeks. Please...look forward to it...??


	4. A Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, darling Prompto. I don’t just tolerate you. I could hardly imagine a life without you.”

The faint outline of Ignis stood against stark white. It turned to face Prompto, both eyes open, empty and dark but each with tiny, glowing lights, leaving behind streams with their movement. Petals swirled again. Clearly a dream. Still, Prompto called out.

“Iggy…”

The eyes closed.

_ “Iggy's not here.” _

A foreign voice invaded. Like a distant memory, the image faded into darkness, leaving naught but petals of light like vapor trails.

“Noct…?”

_ “What are you still doing here? Wake up, already.” _

… 

The soft hum of a machine filled a small room. A gentle beeping slowly increased. To the side, so did somebody’s breathing.

Light broke into Prompto's vision as he parted his eyelids. The blur hung between his eyelashes as he left his eyes thin for a moment more. Gladiolus had already noticed him waking. 

“Prompto.” All the big man could bring himself to say. Eyebrows drawn, lips pursed, the man looked more concerned than relieved — or maybe he was holding something deeper.

Opening his eyes fully, Prompto looked around. He was in one of the nicer hospital rooms...though it was still pretty small. It felt more like a bedroom than a hospital, which he came to immediately appreciate, perhaps too much — he ached as soon as he tried to shift his body.

“Keep still. Hey! Iris!”

Prompto brought his hand to his face, rubbing his eye, his arm bumping against something slender and plastic. He traced a small tube from his nostrils down and out to the side. He was hooked to a breathing machine. He hadn’t noticed it until just then, but his chest felt unusually heavy, his breaths short for stinging, pleuritic pain. He could feel the wrappings around his aching torso preventing him from breathing too deeply. Something was wrapped around the top of his head as well. He wasn’t sure if he could even speak.

He noticed that the room was brimming with flowers. Irises, jasmine, lavender, magnolias… They were all fresh, as their smell filled the room — even in spite of the apparatus. It almost looked as if he’d entered some sort of flower heaven, but the room was only filled with dim, natural light.

As Iris entered, face colored with concern, Prompto’s eyes finally came into full focus.

“Prompto, thank Shiva you’re up,” she said, holding out her hands only to place them gently on a shoulder. “You’ve been out for ten days.”

Prompto’s head sagged back into the pillow. That was a  _ lot  _ of time to lose.

_ Well, nothing like ten years. _

“I made sure they turned you,” said Gladio. “Bastards around here get lazy when it’s not the king.”

“Gladdy!” Iris huffed. She faced Prompto again. “It’s not that they didn’t turn you. They just forgot one day when something...happened.”

She hesitated. Concern hung in Prompto’s waking eyes. Gladio only let out a low grunt.

“...A bunch of construction workers in Sector B got injured during a storm a few days ago. Everyone was slammed. Since I was here, I helped, too. I think everything’s okay now, but it was scary for a bit.”

Prompto looked a little relieved, but concern still hung at the back of his mind.

“Ig...gy…” Prompto’s throat churned out a couple of sounds before he began to cough and hack. At the noise, one of the nurses entered.

Iris moved aside to let the nurse do her thing. “I think Ignis stopped by here a couple of times. He’s been real slammed, too, with all this Initium Novum stuff going on.”

Prompto closed his eyes. More things to think about.

He turned his head away, trying to lie comfortably. The nurse addressed him while straightening out his bed, adjusting his pillows, maneuvering around the preponderance of gift flowers.

“Doc’s told me to relay this to you, Prompto. You’ve been out for ten days. We administered an emergency elixir on you before proceeding to surgical methods. Most of your rib cage, lung, and the flesh around it has healed, but a significant part still needs time to recover. You were asleep longer than we expected, but you may be out of here in a few more days.”

_ An elixir? For...me? _

“You can eat normally, but you may be a little sore. We’ll provide your meals for you. You may want to avoid speaking loudly, but feel free to get that mouth working again. We'll have the breathing tube removed as soon as Doc gets a chance to look at you.”

The corners of Prompto’s lips turned up slightly. “Thanks.” Slightly hoarse, but better than before. No coughing this time.

The nurse bowed before leaving.

“Doc’s still busy?” Prompto eked out, facing Iris again.

“I heard there were a couple of problem cases,” said Iris.

“That’s too bad.”

Though he had just woken up, Prompto still seemed deeply tired. Exhaustion clouded his eyes and filled his lungs. Something other than blood loss and shock had pulled him into a sleep that lasted days but felt like only minutes.

Gladio placed a gruff, calloused hand on Prompto’s shoulder as gently as he could. “You’re a tough ol’ son of a bitch, aren’t ya?”

“What’re ya talking about?” Prompto managed a grin. “I’ve seen you take several bullets.”

“Not straight through the chest. There’s several kinds of pain I can’t take, and that’s one of ‘em. Even if we still had potions at our disposal.”

“These meds help.” Prompto patted his arm, still hooked to an IV. Being Crownsguard captain had some perks after all.

“They definitely help. They’ve still got the good stuff coursing through you. Better enjoy it while you can.”

Prompto gave a small laugh, Gladio grinning in response. Did him good to see baby boy smile.

“I’m gonna go tell Cor you’re up. Don’t go nowhere.”

Gladio stepped out. Iris sat on the edge of Prompto’s bed.

Prompto took a look around the room once more. “Who sent all these flowers?”

“We all did.” Iris spread her arms out almost cartoonishly. “Everyone pitched in. Even some people you don’t know, I think they’re fans of yours — there are just so many now. It might be all the flowers in the kingdom.” Iris smiled, winking.

“They’re fresh…”

“Yeah, we had to move old batches out when you still hadn’t woken. Some kind of gravity started building where more and more flowers would come to replace them. It was like, if we get enough, maybe he’ll wake up faster.”

“Y’all are sweet.”

“Only because you’re sweet.” Iris leaned on Prompto the slightest bit, fringes of hair brushing up against his neck. “We thought you were a goner for a little bit there.”

“Me? Nah. Did I ever tell you a catoblepas stepped on me once? That was worse.”

“If it weren’t for the elixir, you…”

He could hear the emotion entering her voice.

“Hey, now. I’m fine.” Prompto reached around her waist for a hug. “Don’t worry. It’s over now.”

Iris looked into Prompto’s eyes, dull with the fatigued that lingered. “Yeah… yeah. You got through it. You really did.” She paused, looking away. “It’s just, I had never seen my brother cry like that. I...had never seen him cry at all, actually. Maybe he has before, but I’d never seen it.”

_ Gladiolus sat beside the hospital bed, elbows on knees, head in hands. In the critical hours, he listened to every beep of the electrocardiogram. The sound of his friend’s life. Every so often, his eyes jolted upward, thinking they had stopped. It was only in his mind. His head hung once more. _

_ Tension beamed off of him like a light. A strange feeling, mixed familiar old feelings like fear and loss and anxiousness and deep sadness forming something yet indescribable to him, swam through his heart, nearly immobilizing him. After moments, he could not feel his own hot tears streaming down his cheeks. He quieted his own breathing until he was too clogged to do so. His ears popped when he breathed in, salty tears sneaking through the corners of his mouth. Holding out had only made it worse. _

_ Why would he hold out for his good friend? Perhaps his best friend, in this world? Even if he had known he was okay, something had tried to claw its way out of his heart. _

_ Showing this had always been denied to the Amicitias. _

_ Ignis wordlessly turned to leave. _

“Gladio...crying… Even now, I can’t picture it.”

“He does have a soft side, you know.”

“Oh, I know. Trust me.” Prompto grinned reflexively. “I've shared tents with him enough to know all his goofy jokes and how cuddly he can get in his sleep.”

Iris laughed as she gave the side of Prompto’s head a quick kiss and stood. Walking over to the door, she leaned to check something. “Looks like lunch is coming.”

“Oh yeah, Iris, could you open the curtains for me?”

“Of course.” The woman drew one curtain back and bright, midday light shined through wide open blinds. Caught in this light, the flowers seemed to illuminate.

Prompto felt as if he should have been moved. Instead, the light seemed to quell a shade that he’d rather dwell in.

“Lovely,” said Prompto, with a wry smirk that quickly faded.

Iris turned to face him again. She knew how long he’d been asleep, but still something seemed off about her friend. She couldn’t chance things with him. “You look…disappointed, Prompto.”

“Wha?” Prompto forced a concern at her words while the nurse set the tray down for him, arranging his side snacks and his drink. “Disappointed there’s no food in me yet, maybe. That’s about to change.”

“I can tell when you’re being disingenuous.”

Prompto stuffed a dry chicken sandwich, speaking between bites. “Can you tell why?”

Iris pursed her lips. After a moment, thinking she heard someone coming, she moved to the other window to open it as well. Prompto only brightened a little in this light.

There he was, causing trouble again.

After a moment more, Gladio reentered.

“That was fast,” Prompto said between bites.

“I called around,” said Gladio. “Apparently Cor’s tied up. Meetings. That’s good, though — gives you a chance to rest. He’ll be by later.”

“They have Brunus’s funeral?”

Gladio’s eyes went a little dour. “Yeah. A couple more on the Guard passed away from bio blaster fumes… Zidane and Strago.”

Prompto stopped mid-chew. Damn. Strago had been getting on in years, but that was no way to die. He'd miss the old man's stories. And Zidane, on the other hand, was still so young… about as young as Prompto had been when his adventure began.

“Their friends and the Guard sent a lot of these flowers,” said Iris. “They regard you as a hero.”

“Really?” Prompto sounded genuinely surprised.

She turned toward him again. “You are, Prompto.”

She guided his gaze to the bedside counter. Obscured between a couple of flower gifts was a stack of envelopes.

“Everybody’s written letters of encouragement.” She picked them up, handing them to him.

“Wow. Iris…” He started shuffling through them, looking at the names on the cards before even beginning to open them. Celes, Dino, Tracy, Talcott... “It really  _ is _ everyone, huh?” Shuffling through the different colored envelopes, many of different sizes, some appearing to be handmade, he noticed that some were postmarked and others were not. 

He shuffled back to his original top card. There was one particular name he hadn’t seen. He let out a small sigh — not small enough to escape Iris’s notice.

“Iris, will you open these for me?”

“Sure.”

Sitting beside him as he peeled his banana, Iris took the first envelope and gently opened it without tearing the paper. Inside was a large card mostly signed in crayon — it came from the kids of the Nox Street orphanage.

With a glowing smile, Iris handed it to Prompto. “Look!”

All their names — Tan, Mila, Miguel, Maria, Chihiro, Tyson, Pearl, and the orphanage runner, Flavia — each were written in their favorite colors, some accompanied by stick figures and drawings of flowers. Prompto’s face brightened at the sight. Curious, Gladio walked over to view the card up close.

“The kids are so sweet,” Prompto said.

“They were waiting until you woke to visit, so look forward to that,” said Iris.

“These those brats you’re always spoiling?” asked Gladio.

“They’re good kids, not brats,” Prompto chided.

Prompto took a closer look at Flavia’s nicer handwriting.  _ Get well soon, Prompto! _ was wedged in black between all the names and drawings.  _ Thanks, Flav, _ he thought with a genuine smile. He hoped they would drop by soon.

Iris handed him the next card, Prompto nearly spitting out his grapes at the name. “Vyv, of all people. We did dangerous things for that guy.”

_ Chief Argentum! Hope you pull through. I mean, I know you will — I’ve yet to see anything that can stop you. When you’re up and about, send me the scoop on the bastards that did this to you — I’ll be sure to let everyone know what’s going on over here in Lestallum. _

“Darn, I was hoping Vyv knew something we didn’t,” Prompto mused, fiddling with the dented corner of the card. “Guess if he did, he wouldn’t put it in a get well card. How’s Lestallum, anyway?”

“They’ve had another brownout, so they switched back to the chocobo relay system for the last batch of mail,” said Iris. “Apparently it’s gotten really efficient. They still haven’t released the cause of the last brownout, though.”

“At least it wasn’t widespread this time.” Prompto sighed. “It wasn’t, right? I mean, operations out here seem to be okay.”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

“We really should be running more trucks to Lestallum by now.” Prompto sunk into his pillow contemplatively. “They’re really bouncing back, y’know. Living there used to be much harder. Something they’ve got going really works for them out there now. We can really help each other. It still feels so insular here.”

“Tell the king.”

Prompto quieted up at the sound of Gladio’s voice.

He didn’t react when Iris held out the next card. He didn’t eat, didn’t move.

“Prompto… Just out of curiosity...is there something you haven’t told us?” the woman said, quietly.

“Huh?” Prompto tried to act normal, popping another grape. “Oh, no.”

“Prompto—”

“Iris, Gladio, I’m feeling a little tired.” Prompto picked up his tray and put it to the side of him. “Now, I know what you’re thinking: ‘But Prompto, you just woke up!’” Prompto’s imitation of Iris was less energetic than usual. “I feel like I got no rest at all.”

“Okay.” Iris nodded, picking up his tray. “Get some rest, then.”

Iris placed his tray out of the way, closed the blinds, and bade him farewell for now, dragging Gladio along. Unlike her older brother, she knew how to take a hint. And besides, though he certainly didn’t want pity, she felt bad for him. Gladio lingered to look into Prompto’s eyes before the blond uncomfortably darted them away. They left him to lie in the still-bright, flower-laden room.

Unable to doze off immediately in spite of his tiredness, he tried not to let himself burn up inside. The strain of suppressing this feeling eventually tuckered him out.

❦

Doc removed the breathing tube, redressed Prompto’s wounds, and let him put on his own clothes.

“Another hit like that might be your last.”

❦

Prompto was woken at the last minute before visiting hours ended by the kids of the orphanage. They flooded into his room like a small tsunami, crashing of voices and bright fluorescent lights rapidly drawing him out of slumber, and the little ones overtook the bed, the older ones standing around chattering over one another. Flavia tried her best to wrangle them before they did something painful, but despite being stirred so rudely, Prompto was pleased. He knew this was the first time on this side of town for many of them, and they came down just to see little old him.

“Prompto! Can I see your gunshot wound?”

“No, Miguel! It’s not all the way better yet!”

“Was it scary?”

“A little bit.”

“Ooooh!” The little kids gasped. Even  _ Prompto  _ could get scared?!

“Listen, kids — when you’re facing the unknown, it’s always a little scary. But...don’t let that stop you from moving forward.”

Advice was easy to dole out to kids.

“Prompto is a real hero,” said Flavia, smiling. “Make sure you thank him for his service.”

“Thanks, Prompto!” the kids rumbled.

“Aw, c’mon.” Prompto’s cheeks reddened ever-so-slightly.

“And too modest for his own good.” Flavia winked at him.

The kids squealed as they started squirming again. Among it all, little Maria crawled up to Prompto and gave him a gentle hug at his side. Bearing the small pressure, he made his best effort to return it.

“Thank you, Prompto!”

“Thank  _ you _ , Maria,” he returned with a small smile. “Thanks to you, we found the bad guys.”

She gasped. “Really?!”

“Yeah! Thanks for being so sharp.”

Maria spread a pleased grin as Flavia lifted her off of Prompto and into her arms. “All right, kids, Chief needs to rest, and I need to get your butts in bed.”

“Thanks for stopping by, Flavia. It means a lot.”

“Anytime, Prompto.”

“Bye Prompto!”

The smaller kids waved enthusiastically, the older ones trying to remain cool and stoic as they bade Prompto farewell.

The kids left, lights shutting off, and the room was robbed of life.

The still beeping of his heart pulsed evenly, dim street light pushing its way into the room from behind pale curtains.

_ Beep. Beep. _

_ Beep. Beep. _

Yes, he was still alive.

Ambient sterility made flat the experience of lying there alone. The room too cold, as all hospital rooms, shaky breath echoed between flowers closed to nighttime. It did not disturb the tracks of dust caught in a moonbeam; he was alive all the same.

Living, he couldn’t get back to sleep.

❦

After what felt like years of listening to a slow and steady beep, exhaustion finally took Prompto, giving way to a black and dreamless sleep.

When he again awoke, it was time for a much less glamorous late breakfast. Bran flakes — they at least spared him some milk, thank goodness — a soft-boiled egg, and water. He couldn’t complain. After all, most of the poorer city was still on the powdered instant stuff.

Not much later, he was visited by Talcott and two unfamiliar faces: a woman barely taller than him, and the baby in his arms.

“Talcott! Buddy! Where’d you get that?” Prompto chuckled, but he was genuinely surprised. It suddenly felt like a  _ lot  _ had happened while he was out.

“Good to see that you’re well,” Talcott laughed in response. Prompto took in the sight of the young man gently cradling the apparent newborn in his arms as a bouncy laugh escaped him. “It’s been so busy that I haven’t gotten to tell everyone yet. This is my wife, Shue, and my son, Frederick. He arrived just a few days ago.”

It hit Prompto just how little he knew about Talcott’s personal life. They saw each other often enough around the Citadel, but seldom did they get to talk for very long. Nonetheless, Talcott still held such a high regard for Prompto.

“I had no idea you were married, Talcott,” said Prompto, still bewildered.

“It’s okay — I haven’t gone around talking about things much lately. The service was about as small as it can get, about a year ago. Just me and her and the officiant. I met her back when I joined the Hunters.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Chief.” Shue’s voice was demure but not weak.

“Likewise. And ‘Prompto’ is fine.” Prompto turned his eyes to the tiny little life resting in Talcott’s arms. “Hi to you too, little guy. May I?”

“Oh — sure.”

Talcott handed baby Frederick over to Prompto, the exchange happening quickly and gently as the baby’s weight shifted to Prompto, sitting upright in his bed. Frederick slept soundly as Prompto propped his little round head up in the crook of his elbow.

“What a good baby.” Prompto’s eyes lit up at the sight of him, all the potential of this small life filling blue disks of irises with clusters of nebulas. He’d seen so few newborns through most of his adulthood. It was wondrous. Love like this, life like this, would still endure, even in a broken world. The future lay before him.

Prompto looked up to Talcott again, a genuine smile brightening his face. “Seems like it was just the other day when I had you up on my shoulders, pal. Babies making babies!” Talcott laughed nervously at Prompto’s joke. “I’m just messin’ with ya. You’ve got the nerve to make it out there. That’s what makes this family so fantastic.” Prompto took in the smiles of the young couple, the newborn cooing with his own fingers in his tiny mouth. Prompto’s own expression sombered a little as something else came to mind. “You’re still gunning for the Kingsglaive, aren’t you?”

“Even more now. I have to be strong if I wanna protect everyone. And I still owe a lot to King Ignis.” Talcott’s expression grew more reflective. “Y’know, I still think about Caem — back when Ignis and Iris would take turns cooking for all of us. I always complimented Iris more, but secretly...I preferred Ignis’s cooking. He would always make me exactly what I asked for, too, when he could help it. All of it really made the place feel like home.”

Prompto swallowed. “Yeah...”

Talcott patted his superior’s shoulder, looking down at his child. “It’ll be okay. I’m willing to serve our country. We’re prepared for what may come. One day at a time.”

“Yeah.” More resolute. Prompto looked back down to Frederick. “Hear that, Freddie? One day at a time. Every moment with you in it is a miracle.”

“You’d make a good dad, Prompto.”

“Me? Oh, nah…” Prompto turned a little red. He admitted that it felt inspiring to hold a baby, but he figured that ship had sailed for him long ago.

“I know we just met, but I think so, too,” said Shue. “You look adorable holding our son.”

“Oh...heh…”  _ I can barely take care of a dog, much less an entire human being, _ Prompto thought.  _ Hell, when I think of it, I’m basically just a baby myself. _

Both Shue and Talcott giggled. Prompto’s reaction? Basically priceless. But they wholeheartedly believed what they said.

“You just look so  _ right _ right now,” Talcott grinned. “If you ever decide to settle down, we’ll help you.”

“Thanks…” Prompto gave little Freddie another soft glance before handing him back to his father. “Wow, babies are heavier than they look.”

“When you’re better, you should visit,” said Shue. “Our place is a little cramped, but there’s always plenty of room for guests.”

“Of course,” said Prompto, again grinning. “Gotta keep my eye on the little bean sprout here. Oh, and the baby, too.”

Laughing, the two with their baby left just as Cor entered, greeting them with a nod as they passed. The jovial atmosphere was made more stoic by his arrival; a peaceful stoicism, something like zen.

“Sorry for not showing up sooner,” he said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Prompto replied. He fidgeted with the starchy corner of his bedsheet, suppressing the urge to ask about Ignis. “Didja know Talcott had a family?”

“I learned a few days ago,” Cor replied.

_ Ah, he must’ve heard about the newborn. _

Prompto changed the subject. “Is everything okay?”

“Things are stable. We’re still on alert for any new developments.” Cor took a good look around the room, observing the abundance of opening flowers. Like a still painting, Prompto sitting there in the midst of it, it almost made him want to write a  _ haiku _ . “And you?”

“I’m fine,” Prompto said in a practiced fashion. “I’ll be 100% in no time.”

“I hope so.”

❦

He must’ve done something in the past month to piss Ignis off. Yes, that must be it.

Even after knowing him for nearly two decades, Prompto still had trouble knowing just when Ignis was really upset. It wasn’t entirely his fault; a private man by nature, and one used to playing the role of support, Ignis would often enforce stoicism to hide  _ little inconveniences  _ he’d endured that would be considerable problems to most. He knew full well that Ignis was also prone to suffering quietly, rather than airing his grievances. Long ago, he would even make light of his condition for Prompto’s sake. Lately, he had gotten quieter.

Prompto must have done  _ something _ . He might never know what.

In spite of the ache, Prompto turned over onto his side, grasping one of his pillows between his arms and legs. His tired brain forced him to daydream, developed little scenarios he’d cached away for later use.

He’d take Ignis to the Quay and walk with him along the shoreline. The slight undertow would tease their soles and likely send Ignis scuttling more toward dry land, where a tiny ghost crab would narrowly dodge his clumsy movements and duck back into its hole. Prompto would laugh at Ignis’s concern, console him — take his hand again and lead him to the dock, where they would dine and then doze with the stars overhead and the chatter of others dying down in the distance.

The smell of the tide would drive them back to their room.

Or, they would get lost together picking mushrooms in the Myrwood, working up enough of an appetite to cook and eat all of them once they’d finally freed themselves from the thick rainforest. Cockatrices would yield meat to pair, as well with Ignis’s signature seasonings. At camp, now dry, their stomachs full, lying blanketed in their tent while the others were absorbed in their nightly rituals, Prompto would ask Ignis more about his uncle and perhaps the rest of his family; anything Ignis asked him, he decided he would answer.

Would that he had the opportunity.

So many unused kisses.

Soft glances unfulfilled.

“I love yous” fallen to the wind. Eaten by space.

He could’ve asked Noct to borrow the Regalia —  _ no, he wouldn’t drive it, Ignis would drive _ — just to go anywhere. Supply run. Dog tags. Just drive, and drive, and drive, until suddenly it was night, and they could stay at some ramshackle motel in Cleigne where they didn’t have to explain anything to anyone. Where two was company.

He could’ve said anything before Ignis lost his sight.

He could’ve asked anything of Ignis. He wouldn’t have lost anything.

Or maybe… Maybe  _ anything _ really was too much.

Maybe Ignis had finally gotten tired of bearing it all. At least, of bearing  _ this _ .

❦

The next time Prompto dozed off, sometime after lunch, rather than plunging into a restful, blank state, his psyche traveled back in time. As soon as he was there, he knew he was in the wrong place. Ignis, just as he was now, leaned out over the balcony railing of Prompto’s old home in Sector F, listening to the summer's heat trickling out through cicadas’ calls. Where this had actually happened — Ignis wearing his casual robe, fidgeting with a mildly sprained wrist — was the high roof of the citadel a couple months ago, bare now though totally private. Prompto’s home, too, had been empty on most days. Shrugging, he went with it.

“It’s nicer up here,” said Ignis.

“What is?”

“Everything. It’s easy to forget what progress we’ve made. This puts it all in perspective.”

Prompto supposed it applied here, too. Even before the siege of Niflheim had reduced most of Insomnia, including his home, to rubble, the kingdom had built up a lot in the ways of defense and technology within King Regis’s great wall. Lonely though he had been, Prompto had seen prosperity come to his small corner of the kingdom. Days were long. Things were quiet.

This height spoke of peace. It was disconnected from all the bustle, from daily trials and tribulations. From here, Ignis could see the light, unobscured by ruins and tall, empty, broken buildings.

Prompto stepped closer to Ignis, running his fingers between the man’s shoulder blades. When Ignis turned toward him, he half expected him to have his eyes back.

“Thanks...for sticking by me, Prompto.” Surprisingly tender.

“Ha, thank  _ you _ for tolerating me.” Prompto’s bitterness couldn’t help but seep into the dream.

“Oh, darling Prompto. I don’t just tolerate you. I could hardly imagine a life without you.”

The blond dropped his eyes to the floor.

He began to influence the dream.

“Do you… Do you really mean that?”

“Of course I do. Do you take me to say things that I do not mean?”

“No, Iggy, just—”

Ignis turned and clasped his hands around each of Prompto’s biceps. Pinned in place, Prompto felt the older man’s warmth enter him through his palms. It was a hot day in Prompto’s neighborhood, but Prompto had gone cold. He still felt the chill air of the Citadel rooftop in late February. An invisible wind blew through him.

Ignis leaned down to kiss Prompto. Prompto accepted with little hesitation.

Yes. This Ignis still loved him. Without a doubt.

Soon they were down to their knees, stripping each other of extraneous clothing. Before Ignis could take Prompto’s lips again, Prompto pressed a gentle hand to his scarred chest to pause.

“I love you. Happy birthday, Ignis.”

The king always got nostalgic on days like this. He was supposed to have started talking about the sun, “Noct’s gift”. About opportunity, about what they could do for the world and each other...and then this.

Ignis proceeded to claim Prompto’s lips in his own: hungry kisses that told Prompto that he was the only one. Longing touches custom fit to his body.

There should have been no question.

It was just a dream.

Prompto caressed Ignis’s hair as the man pressed kisses into his shoulder. Kept him close as those gentle kisses led down his body. Breathed more deeply as Ignis teased his warming flesh, the same way he always liked. Leaving marks where he deemed appropriate.

Something inside of Prompto burned.

Propping up his lower body, Ignis teased him further, going where only he had ever gone. Gasping, Prompto wished things could have been this way. Wished they could return to his childhood home and live as they pleased while cicadas called and cars passed in the distance.

Prompto rewarded Ignis with vocalizations as the king’s mouth finally started doing more than just teasing. Quickly he was rendered breathless. How he’d missed this. He’s missed it so much.

Something burned.

Harsh reality returned as Prompto gasped awake, grabbing at his chest. Coughing, he rolled onto his back — he had fallen asleep on his bad side.

That was too much.

What good were these feelings of longing? They weren’t helping him heal faster.

What good was dwelling in that fantasy? It only made the future seem more distant.

There came a knock at the door. “Everything okay in there?”

Reflexively, Prompto sat up with a grunt, bunching covers up around his lower torso. Though fully awake now, his body still flushed with heat, reacting in the way one would think it might. “E-everything’s fine,” he forced, hoping the nurse wouldn’t enter.

“Okay. You have a visitor. Should I send him in?”

Prompto wasn’t flushed enough to deny visitors. Plus, maybe it would get his mind off of things. “Sure.”

The door opening, Dave stepped through. “Hey.”

“Dave, you old son-of-a-gun,” said Prompto, smiling. “It’s been so long, I thought the next dog tag they’d turn in would be yours.”

“Nah. Things’ve been slow, actually.” Dave’s voice, deep and even, had only seemed to age slightly, like Cor’s. Same ol’ Dave as ever.

“Yeah? I didn’t mean to lose contact like that. Sorry. We could’ve probably gotten you guys some more work. It’s pretty dangerous in certain parts, though.”

“Don’t worry about it. We needed the break. ‘Sides, my Hunters hardly bat an eye at anything anymore. Send ‘em into a monster-infested dungeon, it’s like nothin’. Just y’all send me the details. Y’shouldn’t be goin’ out there yourselves.”

“Don’t I know it.” A weak laugh.

The head Hunter and his organization had lain low since the Dawn. After all, not much was left in the world to hunt — most everything that remained had become a protected species, though the rare menace, rogue Malboros and the like, would have to be put down in order to protect a settlement. The Hunters now served more as information threads throughout Lucis: info would often come more quickly through them than through the mail.

“Ya look good, Prompto, all things considered.”

“Thanks. Seen anything unusual out there?”

“Not lately. Give us the chance, though, an’ we’ll find it.”

❦

Later that day, Prompto had barely gotten a chance to stretch his legs when Monica and most of the Crownsguard showed up at the same time. Monica had meant to show up with Dave but got held back by a bit of business. She had just been set up as the official coordinator of communications between the Crown and the Hunters. She already treated her new role as liaison seriously, but, a woman of many talents, she still had to tend to other tasks, among them communicating with the Guard. So it happened they were also visiting Prompto today.

The sight of all of them made him emotional. They had brought snacks, sweet dried fruits, even chocolate — and Celes hand-delivered his oversized get-well card from all of them.

“Aw… You guys, I’m gonna start crying.” He chuckled a little, trying not to get choked up.

“Why’d you have to go and get yourself shot through the chest?” said Ultros in his ultra-whiny voice. “You’re making me and Celes look lame.” He pointed at Celes’s bandaged arm.

“And where are  _ you _ hurt?” Prompto huffed.

Ultros threw his foot up onto the bed. “Sprained ankle! That shit stings! See if they give  _ me  _ a Purple Heart!” Ultros crossed his arms.

“It looked to me like you were dead for a moment.” Annoyed. But Ultros was always like this.

“You wish!”

“Brunus, Zidane, and Strago would keep you in line.”

The room went a little quiet. Ultros lowered his foot and looked away.

“None of us were prepared for that,” said Celes, threading thin fingers through long, cornflower hair. “All of us are really fortunate to still be here. Their sacrifice won’t be forgotten.”

“We’d probably all be dead if it weren’t for you and your sword,” said Prompto, a bittersweet smile gracing his face.

“It was fate for me to be here with you all now.” Celes also smiled. “Let’s continue to celebrate life in their honor.”

“Agreed,” said Monica.

In a hospital room crowded with a motley crew of fighters and flowers, Prompto shared his snacks, petted their off-duty Interceptors, and chattered generally about life, boredom, and wanting to get out of this bed. The Guard slowly tapered off over the course of an hour, eventually leaving just him and Celes.

“See ya, boss,” said Ultros, waving two fingers as he departed.

“Don’t slack off on account of that ankle,” said Prompto.

Ultros disappeared with a grunt. Celes sat beside Prompto’s bed.

“If you’re still having pain, they likely won’t discharge you early,” she said.

“But I’m so boooored,” Prompto drawled.

“Savor that feeling while you can.”

“I know.” A bitter chuckle.

“I have some news to ease your boredom.”

At this, Prompto perked up. “I’m listening.”

Celes shifted in her chair, leaning her elbows onto the bed. “In the aftermath of everything, we scoured the tunnels for information. There wasn’t much that we hadn’t already gleaned. Our most significant discovery came from within the Magitek armor that attacked us.” She pulled a photocopy from her pocket, unfolding it to reveal a small, jagged shard of crystal.

“This?”

“A crystal was found at its core, where normally its power source would be daemonic. Evidently, slight traces of elemental magic can be amplified through this crystal, powering not only mechanisms but attack forces. The  _ magic _ we witnessed was but a focused ray of fire, amplified through this.”

“You’ve had time to test it?”

“Yes. It didn’t take much.”

“What kind of crystal is it?”

“We’ve yet to determine. We’re on the lookout for more. We even contacted Dino Ghiranze.”

“Yeah...good idea.”

“There’s more.” Celes sat up, looking toward the door. “Chief, would you like to take a little walk?”

Prompto looked curiously.

The Deputy led him to a smaller room on the other side of the medical ward. Within it lay a person whose eyes and body were wrapped, mostly immobile but still living. They were a pitiable sight; Celes thought even less of it.

“Sometimes it disgusts me that we have to waste resources on people like them,” she said, “but they have agreed to be cooperative, so it may be worthwhile.”

Prompto watched as the person’s lips began to move feebly.

“Who’s there? Is that the Deputy?”

“This is a member of Initium Novum,” Celes continued, arms crossed. “They were hit in the explosion but managed to survive, mostly thanks to us.” Her eyes burned down at them in disdain.

Prompto thought she was being a little harsh, but, knowing where she came from, understood. Still, he knew that terrorist groups like this often preyed upon the weak. They were likely in the presence of no more than a lowly grunt.

“Who’s there with you…?” they asked.

“It’s the Chief.”

“Ah…” Their head fell weakly to the side. “Chief, I emphasize that I cannot say much.”

“Why not? What have you got to lose?” Prompto was genuinely curious. Things couldn’t get much worse for them.

“My life. Then your resources will have been wasted further.”

Celes bit her lip.

Prompto ran his fingers through his hair. “So you’re saying Initium Novum will have you killed?”

“I don’t know how they know...but if you ever say the wrong things…” They paused. “It’s over.”

“So, what can you say?”

“The headquarters… It’s here.” They coughed, a weak wheeze forced from shallow breath. “Within the city. Not where you think, but definitely here. But...it’s not  _ all _ here. They have reach. Pretty far.”

“How far?”

They coughed again.

Demanding. “Galahd? Liede?”

“I don’t want to die.”

“How big is the organization? Who is the leader? What do they look like? Do all of you have brands?”

“I…”

Silence fell again.

Prompto turned toward Celes. “This isn’t a whole lot of cooperation.”

“But we have learned something, at least.”

“You may as well kill me now.” The wounded person turned their head toward the ceiling. “Not much else I can say, and I’m useless to anybody now.”

“We’ll ensure that you stay alive if you have anything else,” said Celes.

“You can’t make that promise.” The person let out a long sigh. “I was born in Galahd, you know. Most of my life’s been a real shit time.  _ He  _ was the first person who offered any real hope. Not even your King Regis could do that, before everything blew up.”

Prompto quirked an eyebrow. “ _ He? _ ”

“I’ve been able to sleep. I’ve had food,” they continued. “I’ve been places where a bomb won’t drop in on me. I...got to feel human.” They somehow turned their head to face Celes. “Why’d you do this to me?”

Celes took a step back.

“His work isn’t done yet. You’ll see. I think it’ll be worth it in the end. And if I perish… Well, Ifrit will be smiling.”

“They’re delirious,” said Celes, taking the Chief’s arm. “Let’s leave them, Prompto.”

“When I perish…”

Prompto looked back once more as Celes led him out of the room.

❦

Celes and Prompto shared an early dinner — dry vegetarian black bean burgers. Prompto hated these almost as much as Noctis had hated any vegetable, but it was filling, and he had little room to be picky, especially after the afternoon.

He could just hear Noct in his head.  _ “Beeeeeeaaaans…” _

As Celes finished hers, she looked up at Prompto with a bit of hesitation.

Prompto met her eyes. “What?”

“I thought it best to tell you now. It has been discussed with the Crown a slight change in our positions. Their idea, not mine.”

What?

Was Ignis...demoting him?

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not exactly sure what it is being called, but we would both be something like...Co-Chiefs. Fran would likely be the new Deputy.”

“Oh.” Prompto took the next-to-last bite of his burger.

_ Co-Chief? Why? _ Not that sharing the load would be unwelcome, especially with one so skilled and sharp-witted as Celes. Still, he had borne the load with some efficacy until now. Did Ignis lack faith in him?

Though, all of this, getting lain up in bed like a vegetable, causing everyone to worry...it was his own mistake.

Wait. No, no. It was Ignis’s fault. It was his fault he even questioned himself. Prompto, the Daemon-Slayer, best friend of the True King, ten years and more a survivor of the apocalypse, caused to question himself by the one man who knew everything about him.

_ What he should do is promote me...to Co-King! _ It’s not like Prompto couldn’t understand all the political ins-and-outs of the position. Fancy dinners with the tribe leaders of Duscae, council meetings discussing things he already knew, telling people where to be and when. Fuck! He was more than a fucking foot soldier! He was no royal tactician, but he  _ knew  _ what he knew!

He could feel himself flush. Yes, of course he was overreacting in his mind. But, still…

“When did you discuss this?”

“A few days ago.”

Where was Ignis now?

Celes read Prompto’s discomfort. She placed a hand on his arm, rubbing it gently. “It will be better for us to share this burden. I can tell that it’s been giving you a lot of stress.”

“I-I can handle it.”

“It’s okay to need help, Prompto. No one will think less of you. Certainly not I.”

He wished it had been his own decision. At least, to have had any input. He sighed deeply.

“Chief, I must return to HQ to wrap up a few things,” said Celes as she stood, gathering the mess they had made.

“Mm-hmm.” Prompto popped the last bit of his burger into his mouth.

“Please don’t stress yourself out. You still need rest. When you need someone, I will be right beside you.” Having discarded old wrappings and juice containers, Celes leaned over to hug Prompto.

“Thanks, Celes.” He tried to sound sincere. After all, he did appreciate her. With one weak arm, he returned the hug.

Prompto lay there another hour after she departed, watching night take over as the flowers again closed their blooms. He lay on his better side, arms tucked between knees, thoughts keeping him from dozing. His eyes flicked between one still-wrapped box of chocolate to a soft, handmade chocobo doll, to a row of colorful cards stacked between flowers, to a ribbon one of the Guard had strung up along the wall and across the door. Some of it had gotten bunched up in the doorway.

_ He must be pretty busy. He didn’t sleep for like, a week after the workers got trapped by that crane last year. Plus, he still had a lot of treaties to sign. Shit doesn’t wait just ‘cause a few people got shot or blown up. _

He kept his gaze fixed upon the door.

_ If he pushes himself too hard, he’ll be in as bad shape as me. _

_ … _

_ What’s he doing right now? Did he go to Brunus and Zidane and Strago’s funerals? He’s the one who vetted Zidane. Said he reminded him of me. _

_ … _

_ He should be asleep, but I know he’s not. _

…

Prompto’s mind ran like this for another hour.

❦

Ignis lay awake in bed, thinking about Initium Novum’s wreckage.

The branded man who passed away before he had a chance to speak.

Funding for the rebuilding of Lunafreya’s statue.

People lying in wait, secretly aiming to kill him.

He thought about how bad Prompto had looked, lying unconscious in his hospital bed.

Thought of how bad Prompto would’ve looked two years ago after two thugs had assaulted him.

_ “They were screaming, ‘Fucking Nif! Send him back home!’” _

When he came to him, his face had been bloody and swollen.

He had felt the swollen knots.

He thought about spearing them himself, as he’d wanted to back then.

Of the people demanding clarification about his choice of council.

Of his council asking clarification of their roles.

Thought of all the people beyond the Crown City asking for more and more resources. Resources they didn’t have.

Thought of Prompto lying beside him in this bed.

Thought of people coming to him, expecting Prompto to be with him as well.

Thought of Prompto.

_ Please… _

_ Let me sleep... _

❦

Sania visited early in the morning. It had been  _ forever  _ since she and Prompto last spoke, and she was pleasant and to-the-point as always. Of course, she was still researching frogs in a pretty upbeat fashion — it was her calling, after all. Many species had apparently thrived in the Decade of Darkness, and now that she was heading up larger research initiatives touching many biological research guilds throughout the realm, she had a much wider scope to work with and much more to do. She let him pet some of her frogs (of course, she had several on her as pets); they’d gotten much bigger, several of them dog-sized, but they were still relatively docile.

“We’re working on extracting remedies from their secretions,” she said. “If we can create Frog Elixirs, you’ll never have to worry about getting lain-up by another bullet!”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Prompto laughed, hugging a red frog. “I hope Frog status isn’t a side-effect. We’ve run out of Maiden’s Kisses.”

“You know, I’d better make a note of that.”

Before lunch, Iris and Gladio visited.

“Guys, I’m going to lose my mind in here.” Sania’s visit had been exciting enough, but the excitement died as soon as she’d left the room. It was like that every time someone visited. Prompto was tired of being bored.

“They still won’t let you out?” asked Gladio.

“Doc said that in light of the ‘magical discoveries’ related to the Magitek armor, they wanna monitor me a bit longer here and make sure nothing else develops in my chest.” Prompto heaved a heavy sigh. He would’ve shrugged if he could. “I wanna go home.”

“I brought some playing cards,” said Iris. “Let’s play War.”

“You  _ want  _ me to lose my mind, don’t you.”

Their game continued through lunch, a mindless pattering of cards taking their minds off of stale water and flat salad. Hospital food was starting to wear thin on Prompto.

By the time lunch was through, Prompto held nearly all the cards, Iris almost none. Gladio had already lost his.

“Okay, Prompto, I surrender,” she said. “Let’s play something else.”

“No way! This is a war of attrition!” Prompto threw down another card. “I won’t accept anything less than full victory!”

“Prompto…” Iris showed him all her remaining cards. Four aces. One eight.

“What! So that’s where all the aces went! You’re cheating!”

“This war will never end, Prompto.”

“Cheater!”

“That’s just how things work out sometimes,” said Gladio, grinning.

“I have to think of my people,” said Iris, placing a hand on her heart. “They’ve suffered so much already. To continue this would be madness. Please...accept my surrender amicably.”

“It really is the best option,” Gladio chimed in.

“Fine, fine,” said Prompto. “I can’t take another hour of this, either.”

“Yay!” Iris threw her cards onto Prompto’s lap. “I’m free!”

“This game was your idea.”

Gladio got up to stretch. Iris took all the cards and sorted them out. Prompto checked the clock.

“You off duty right now?” said Prompto to Gladio.

“Yeah, and bored like hell.” Gladio reclined in a chair, hands behind his head, closing his eyes.

“And you’re hanging around  _ here _ ?”

“Not so boring with you around.”

Prompto smiled. He had honestly felt kind of like a letdown lately, but it felt good to be reminded that  _ just existing _ was okay.

“Prompto,” Iris started. “I’ve been meaning to ask about... _ you know _ …”

He looked over to her. “What…?”

She glanced at Gladio, who now peeked at them both with one eye. “ _ You know… _ ”

Getting it, he looked away. “I’m...not ready to talk about it.”

Iris sat forward, disbelief coloring her face. “So you...did it? And…?”

Gladio opened both of his eyes now. “What’s going on?”

Prompto turned red under the pressure that suddenly filled the room. The pressure wouldn’t allow him to speak.

“When did it happen? Has he been by?” She crawled closer to Prompto, who was trying to avoid looking at her.

When he finally looked up, he found gentle, adept amber eyes attempting to pry into his soul. He looked down again, memorizing patterns of shadow in his sheets. Some looked like Sania’s frogs. Others like the skulls on Noct’s old shirt. “I haven’t seen him in a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?!”

“Who are we talking about?!” Gladio sat forward and yelled a bit too loudly.

“Shh! This is a hospital!” Iris huffed. “We’re talking about Iggy, dummy!”

“You haven’t seen Ignis in  _ weeks _ ?” Now Gladio’s face wore disbelief, the similarities in the siblings’ expressions bridging them.

“Y-yeah.” Prompto looked over to his cards tucked between the flowers. “Not that unusual. He’s a busy king. Lots going on.”

Iris’s expression deflated, leaving her looking flat, eyebrows furrowed. Gladio crossed his arms.

❦

Cor entered the royal throne room in advance of his company, traveling up the stairs to stand at Ignis’s side. Ignis, sitting on a throne made with another king in mind, intently read a lengthy treaty that had been translated into braille.

“Gladiolus seeks an audience,” Cor said.

“Usually he just storms in,” Ignis replied. “Why the change?”

“I don’t know.”

Ignis raised his reading hand. The Glaive standing at the room’s entrance signaled for Gladio to enter. The Commander kneeled before the throne, mostly for record’s sake.

“Your Majesty.”

“Putting on airs isn’t like you, Gladio.”

“I don’t have any qualms with procedure.” Gladio got to his feet. “I come to ask why you haven’t seen Prompto.”

“I have. The other week. You were there.”

“Since then. You know,  _ conscious _ .”

“So he’s awake?”

“You fucking know he’s awake.”

Ignis sat his treaty to the side. “Gladio, let’s not take that tone this evening.”

“I just want to know what he’s done to deserve this.”

The king gritted his teeth.

“The kid’s wasting away in there waiting for  _ one person _ to visit him, for  _ days _ now, and all you’re doing is poring over political bullshit.”

“Excuse yourself. I won’t have you diminish the importance of—”

“It’s not more important than Prompto!” Gladio growled. “You know whose name he said while he was practically dying? Y’know whose name he was mumbling as he woke up?”

Ignis breathed.

“I don’t know just what you’re doing, but get over yourself, be a man, and  _ go talk to him! _ ”

“You think after all the love that’s been lavished upon him, the gifts, the company, all he’s waiting for is me? The man has the respect of all the bloody country, people come from across the map to see him — but he singularly relies on  _ me? _ ”

“You know there’s gods-damned more to it than that.” Gladio could barely contain his outrage, fingernails digging into red palms. “It’s bad enough that you’d lie to me; worse that you’re lying to yourself.  _ Go talk to him. _ ”

“Careful, Gladio,” Ignis hissed. “You’re not in a position to give me orders.  _ You are excused. _ ”

Fire in his eyes, Gladio turned and left before he had to bear Ignis’s sight another moment.

When the room was clear and footsteps had grown distant, Ignis dropped his face into his hand.

Cor’s face remained even, seemingly disconnected, even if he wasn’t.

“Cor… Have I ruined this?”

“You should go talk to him.”

❦

After the treaty had been discussed again with the council, after dinner had been eaten and the day’s items squared away, Ignis visited the hospital where Prompto was staying. It was past visiting hours, but the hospital allowed the king a late visit so long as he was quiet.

All the lights in the room were off. Only the light of streetlamps backlit the curtains, almost too low for Ignis to pick up. Prompto seemed to be sleeping soundly; Ignis could hear his steady breathing, inward breaths shallow, outward breaths long. The scent of flowers filled the room this time. His nose found lavender first, magnolias soon after; then scents began to merge. There must have been lots. He closed the door behind him as quietly as he could manage, then stood directly before the bed.

The door’s gentle  _ snap  _ as it closed was enough to stir Prompto from his light nap. He could sense another presence in the room. They spoke before he could open his eyes.

“Prompto.”

That voice.

_ Why is  _ he  _ here? Why now? _

He couldn’t take this right now. He kept his eyes shut. Struggled to keep his breath flowing naturally as his heart sped up.  _ Be calm, now. _ Anything to help him preserve the ruse.

“Prompto, if you can hear me…” Ignis sighed. “I know it’s been a moment. A lot’s been happening. Beyond Initium Novum, the potential of attempts on my life, treaties with regional leadership, many,  _ many _ people have been vying for my attention. I...hope you understand. To call things ‘busy’ would be an understatement.”

Prompto gritted his teeth. Yes, of course. Of course he understood. When wouldn’t a king be busy? Only when he demanded time for himself.

Still.

_ The world’s been dying. Everyone is busy. _

“Also, I…” Another sigh. “The elephant in the room, really. I’ve been meaning to talk to you, but I thought maybe I’d give you some space.”

_ Space? _

_ What I need is  _ more space _? _

_ Any more space and I’d fucking asphyxiate. _

“I made sure they got you that elixir. It was from my private reserve. We… I couldn’t let you die. You could’ve died. And when we found out magic was involved… There’s just so much. We can’t lose you. I made sure you were taken care of.”

_ Thank you, Your Graciousness _ , Prompto thought.  _ Oh, an elixir from your own reserve, huh? Glad you could spare it for little ol’ me! _

Ignis noticed a change in Prompto’s breathing. Prompto attempted to calm himself again. His heart only grew faster.

“What am I even saying? What do I say to you?”

Ignis stopped as if he were waiting for Prompto to respond. Both their foreheads beaded with sweat as a pressure built in the room. Swallowing against a hard lump, Ignis continued.

“I’m just happy that you’re recovering. I...I want you to be well. I want you to be happy…”

_ Wants me to be “happy”... _

“With your friends...with the life you’ve been given.”

_ The life I’ve been given… _

Prompto’s fingers dug into his sheets. Tears beaded at the corners of his eyes. Opening them, they flowed freely, running down the sides of his face, soaking into his pillow. Glistening blue eyes caught the light of the moon, illuminating sorrow.

Ignis heard a low and uneven gasping, the start of tears. He stood immobilized as sound forced its way from Prompto’s lungs through his mouth, his nose.

_ That’s all he has to say…? _

About a month ago, Prompto had been so scared for Ignis. For “a small scratch”, he hadn’t once left his side, not until he was discharged. It wasn’t just what he should have done. His heart wouldn’t allow him to leave.

For all Ignis had known, he could have died these past two weeks.

Now Prompto knew who he was dealing with.

“If you want to break up with me, why don’t you just say it?”

Taken aback. “Prompto, I—”

Prompto drew in breath sharply. “I hate you. Don’t ever talk to me again.”

A light gasp escaped Ignis’s mouth. An indescribable, raw emotion twisted his face before he turned and left, not another moment between them.

_ Slam _ .

Prompto turned onto his side, pulled his pillow into his face, and sobbed.

Ignis rushed to leave the hospital before anyone could see any tears being shed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this very long chapter!!
> 
> I'll be switching to a bi-weekly Wednesday night posting schedule for now. I have to write and do other stuff, and I want to give each chapter its due.
> 
> Next week, Episode Prompto comes out, which will have a definite effect on this story, fics I've written, and fics to come. Expect edits.
> 
> The next chapter is very long and deals with a few things that have been set up in the first four before transitioning to the next part of the story. Please look forward to it!


	5. A Hard-Earned Reward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I haven’t been a hundred in a long time.”

“Do I have to?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Celes helped straighten out Prompto’s jacket. It had been freshly dry cleaned for the first time in a while; Prompto had claimed that it fit differently now, though it looked no different to her. He had also claimed that her Kingsglaive-style jacket, made to match his modified one for her new role, clashed with her typical natural-colored aesthetic and porcelain-pale skin, a look which she had been allowed to retain due to the extraordinary circumstances bringing her to the group. To the contrary, she proclaimed that she wore authority well — claimed that it intimidated him, broad shoulders and dark colors and shoes that almost had her match his height. It wasn’t entirely untrue.

“It’s a high honor from the king himself.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Perhaps there will be more. Six know you deserve it.”

Prompto shrugged.

The king had actually discussed the awards ceremony with Celes at the same time he had mentioned her promotion to her. When she passed it along to Prompto — and of course she had, as Ignis was still “too busy” to come tell him himself, to have a letter sent or  _ anything  _ — she could feel the anxiety spike off of his skin, radiating out from his core.

It wasn’t just that he would have to see Ignis again. It was that he would be at the center of attention.

He and Gladio had both — privately — received honors not long after Ignis had ascended to kingship. For walking in step with Noctis. For guiding people in the darkness. These distinctions they wore in their hearts. However, this was a public affair, “to instill hope in the citizenship and faith in the armed forces” after the frightening incident which destroyed the great statue of Lady Lunafreya and could have put innocent civilians in danger.

Standing adjacent to Ignis as he spoke at the podium, the king’s speech fell on deaf ears. Inspiring mush ran like a river of honey from his ever-charming mouth, his accent proving to make even the most vacuous platitudes seem meaningful. This cynicism was much unlike Prompto, but the wound was still fresh. Warm tones ran cold the moment they touched him.

He couldn't even bring himself to look at the king directly. No doubt he wore another finely-tailored suit, purple cravat jutting out like the bust of some exotic bird, white sash and cape completing the look; nothing quite as fancy as a Lucis Caelum, as Ignis was “a man of the people”, but still a look that implied some import, just a bit nicer than his usual wear. The crest of his crown, spread rays like the sun and hair of his youth, caught the light that warmed their square. He couldn't see how brilliant he was. How Prompto envied it.

Never mind all that.  _ Try to look professional. _

He resisted the urge to try to glance over at Celes, standing on Ignis’s other side.

She stood upright, looking over the crowd, an almost regal stance that suited her.

He stood with a developing slouch. He wanted to go home.

“...a newcomer to our realm of Lucis. Without her power to deflect magic and her shrewd ability to deconstruct incidents, our losses may have — no,  _ would have _ been greater. She has shone like a diamond in the darkness. Please join me in congratulating Chief Celes Chere!”

The crowd applauded as the king took measured steps out from behind the podium. The king and the co-captain faced each other squarely. He placed the medal, a heart with a diagonal slash through it, on her jacket. Displaying it proudly, the crowd’s noise rose further as she bowed.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

She returned to his side as he stepped back behind the podium.

“Most, if not all of you, are familiar already with Chief Prompto Argentum. You have seen him on your streets; some of you have even invited him into your homes. A diligent and caring protector, he has long defended the heart of Lucis. Alongside Gladiolus Amicitia and myself, we helped support the True King through to his destiny. Much I have spoken of this sacrifice, but less you may realize about Prompto’s own sacrifices. A man of low birth managed to rise to the challenge of keeping the world’s darkness at bay, asking nothing in return. In the recent struggle, he faced death and managed to come out of it alive. His bravery cannot be overstated.”

Prompto hated being talked about this way. He was happy with supporting people from the sidelines. His role had thrown him in the heat of the mix from the very beginning, yet he was fine being left out of the history books...if he even had that option anymore. What mattered to him was that the right things got done. He had been there for his friend. Now he was here for his country. That was true with or without awards.

“Please join me in congratulating Chief Prompto Argentum!”

Prompto tensed. The crowd was but a distant droning in his ears. Robotically, he took his position as Ignis stepped toward him to pin the tiny purple heart to his jacket. Prompto's nose caught lavender in the air between them. Whenever he could, Ignis always tucked a few blooms away in his shirt pocket. Always. The smell of them now was poignant.

Away from the microphone, the king spoke under his breath.

“I’m sorry, Prompto.”

Truly, all the years of fighting monsters, daemons, Imperial forces, was easier than this. Staring down the barrel of a Magitek armor’s glowing cannon almost seemed welcome.

“Yes, you are.”

“Prompto, don’t—”

“Why are you doing this to me? Why now? Do you think I want this?”

“This isn’t about just you.” A bald lie.

“Y’know, I thought at least that you were my friend.”

Ignis tried not to react. He didn’t know what emotion his face could possibly be showing.

Realizing he had lingered too long, the king stepped away. Prompto bowed humbly before the crowd.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Clapping for him, Celes looked over, smiling cheerfully. She held her expression, though weakening, as she read the melancholy in Prompto’s face, the discontentment in Ignis’s.

Ignis returned to his mic. “Another round of applause.”

Now people were whistling. The noise began to drown out Prompto’s thoughts. It was too much.

The noise blended into the crowd at Eclipse. Eclipse was the hottest bar downtown. This was to say that Eclipse was the only active bar downtown, though one could go to Twilight or Fenix Crown if all was required was a quick drink, a dark corner, and some musing. The proprietors of Eclipse perked up as the raucous Guard and some of the Glaive opened their tabs and ordered with reckless abandon, their chatter lining the walls of the establishment, bringing it to life. It had been a minute since they all had such a good excuse to drink.

“To Celes, the Firekeeper! To Prompto, the Sureshot!”

Not much of a drinker, Prompto had asked the barkeep to make him something sweet. He nursed “something” for some time, a syrupy and stinging sensation filling his throat and belly, and sat mostly quiet, head swimming, while congratulations continued to be exchanged between him and the others. He watched as the Guard encouraged Celes, shoulder pats and smiles all around — the occasional solemn nod about Brunus and reminiscing about Zidane and Strago. The people of Lucis had a surprising trust of Celes. Many found speaking with her easy despite her foreign origins. Few knew what Prompto knew about her. She still had most definitely earned this trust, from even the day they met. Truly, he was happy for her...after all, she made his job a lot easier. And he needed someone like her to cancel out Ultros.

He couldn’t help but feel a little diminished, despite everything.

Speaking of the purple-haired weirdo, in this jovial atmosphere, where things almost felt normal —  _ almost  _ — even Ultros was behaving. Maybe it was out of respect for Celes. Maybe he was one of those kinds of people who somehow got nicer when drunk.

Throwing an arm around his shoulders and throwing him out of his reverie, Gladio plopped down on the empty seat next to Prompto that had continuously been exchanging butts for the past hour, grinning. He smelled strongly of whiskey — burped it almost directly in his face. “Don’t tell me you’re already at your limit.”

Prompto fanned away Gladio’s breath. It pierced his own lungs, like he’d drank it himself. “Please tell me you’re at yours…”

“I just wanna enjoy our perks for once. They keep all the good stuff squirreled away for us. Remember all those dark years, surviving on little more than piss vodka? How’d we even make it?”

Prompto had only ever tried said vodka once. “I hated that shit.”

“I know. I still remember your expression. Like a baby eating smushed peas.”

The smaller man gave him that expression in response. Letting go, Gladio gave Prompto a rough pat on the shoulder, laughter rumbling out from his gut. Prompto winced audibly in response.

“Sorry!” Gladio said, curtailing a small panic.

Prompto gave a small thumbs-up. His smile didn’t get past the full “Prompto-like” limit Gladio had measured in his mind over the years.

“Why’re you sitting here lookin’ all sad, anyway? You’ve finally got a chance to talk to everybody about something not work-related.”

“Yeah…” Exactly what Prompto wanted to avoid.

Iris came over with a glass of bourbon in hand.

“Iris, tell Prompto to live it up a little. He’ll listen to you. Get ‘im a glass of FireBomb.” The big man chuckled.

“What’s the matter, Prompto?” Iris squeezed in between Prompto and the Guard sitting on the other side of him.

“Ah, just tired.” He could smell her drink from there. He began to remember why he didn’t frequent bars.

“It’s a lot, huh?” Iris looked around. Ultros had begun singing loudly and out-of-tune, dancing on a far table that was tilting ever-so-slightly. So much for behaving. “And I thought the Hunters got wild!”

“Some of them were Hunters,” Prompto remarked.

“This place used to be sorta posh, long ago,” Gladio remarked. “Well, you’d still get trash in here sometimes. Like that one punk, tried to take a swing at Noct. Wanted to put his ass in the ground, but it wasn’t worth it.”

It took Prompto a moment to realize that he meant the man who had given him his first scar.

“Wait a moment. I know this song.” Gladio stood up, facing Ultros.

“Everybody-look-at-me-ee!” Ultros’s feet thumped against the table.

“Every-body-wanna-be-me!” Gladio threw his hands up in the air.

With a wide, crooked-toothed grin, Ultros pointed both his hands at Gladio. “A-ah! She’s a master-mind; she can master mine!”

“No need for a medal, just step on the pedal!”

The two began laughing in tune with the song’s chorus. Everyone who recognized it began to laugh and clap along with them. Prompto seemed detached from the antics.

Tired.

“Wanna bounce, Prompto? We can go someplace quieter, just sorta chill.” Iris set her drink down. She could always read him.

“Thanks. I kinda wanna go home, actually.”

“Aw, this is your day, Prompto.” Iris had been looking forward to spending time with Prompto outside of the hospital for once.

A wry grin spread across Prompto's face. “I’ll have more, I’m sure.”  _ Unfortunately _ .

“At least get one more drink for the road, Chief,” said Gladio, turning back towards him. He'd still been listening. “I’ll catch it for ya.”

“You don’t hafta.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

Prompto downed another sweet drink before parting ways with his friends. With everyone so preoccupied by Ultros’s antics, he made a clean getaway; Celes, in the midst of cleaning up her subordinate’s mess, had to ask later what had become of her co-chief.

❦

The blond had spent hardly a moment in his apartment since he was discharged. Whether it was something with work, stopping to chat with locals that were concerned about him, or getting wrapped up in helping people, he had stayed out of his home for most hours outside of sleeping. Yesterday, he got in at midnight after a long day of physical therapy and helping someone find their lost dog. He had dragged himself through the main room and into his bedroom and passed out in all his clothes. Tonight, he did the same, though it was far before midnight and he was fully laden with his heavy jacket.

After lying there for a moment, he peeled off his outer layer and tossed it onto the chair beside his bed, then slowly, meticulously kicked off his boots using feet alone, toes struggling against their snaps, eventually letting them fall where they may. It was more effort than if he'd just taken them off normally. Mid-evening lampposts shone light through crooked windowblinds, illuminating the spot where they landed. He lay there uncomfortably another moment, ears making out a distant delivery truck backing up, no doubt unloading into the silos. Nothing sounded from neighboring rooms. Neighbors must not be home yet.

The night was still too quiet.

With a sigh, Prompto sat all the way up, flicking on his bedside lamp. He rummaged around the nightstand drawer, pulling a mostly-empty pack of strawberry-flavored cigarettes and a lighter out from beneath trash knick-knacks and assorted small, mechanical doo-dads. Making a tiny hop out of bed, he threw open the small glass door to the bedroom balcony and stood outside, leaning over with the railing beneath his armpits.

_ Flick. _

_ Flick. _

_ Flick _ . It lit on the third time.  _ Good. _

He exhaled deeply after a long draw. Even the smoke was slightly pinkish. He watched it dissipate over the city, seemingly absorbed by the smog of the factory across town, now backlit by the last sliver of red sunset.

Somehow, he’d made this pack last two years.

Its days were numbered.

After enjoying himself for approximately five minutes, he put his smoke out and disposed of it properly, dragging himself back inside. The window AC unit had kicked on. He felt as if it were shunning the world’s gift of warmth to have this, that of which he and everyone else had been deprived for so long, but it did get unbearably hot in this place otherwise — plus, it was another perk of his position. His head still swum from some fruity drink with a surprising kick, perhaps only surprising to his lightweight body; he felt indescribably silly at this fact but thankfully was able to keep it to himself.

Sitting back at his bed, he turned toward the wall. He was faced with the familiar photograph of himself and Noctis taking a selfie in front of a kebab stand in Lestallum. That one was one of his favorites, particularly because of Noct; the young would-be king had actually managed a genuine smile for this photo. He figured it was because he was pleased, for once — the kebabs there had been  _ really  _ good. If one looked closely, one could see a small smudge of barbeque on the side of his mouth. He must not have noticed when Prompto had shown him later. He had been so keen on urging Prompto to delete most of his more awkward photos.

“Got a little schmutz there, Noct.” He grinned.

His eyes drifted to the photo beside it. A young boy of seven — Talcott — hung off of Prompto’s shoulders, bright smiles on both their faces. He remembered that he’d gotten Iris to take that shot.

_ Talcott’s got a family now _ , Prompto thought. Yes, even in this world, married, with a child. No matter how overwhelming things got, Talcott had those two to come home to. The loving embrace of his wife. The everyday miracle of his child. What a blessing.  _ What a blessing _ .

Was it too late for him?

_ It’s too late. _

Prompto stared blankly for a moment. He remembered why he didn’t like spending too much time in his room. It hadn’t been hard to convince Ignis to share his royal chamber. With all his “slumber parties”, he’d mostly neglected to make his place feel more like a home.

All he had here were distant memories. He held them dear, but times like these, they would elicit a dull ache.

Prompto’s glance spread over the bedroom. His walls were plastered with photos of his own, hardly any space to show bare wall, most from his grand adventure, some from five years ago.

Prompto pointed a thumb back towards Gladio, chilling in the backseat of the Regalia. Off to the side but mostly cut off, Noctis casually mimicked Gladio’s pose.

Noct and Gladio ate Takka’s region-famous Catoblepas steaks by the campfire, leaning against their chocobos. That one had come out too dark, but the way the fire illuminated their faces was interesting to him.

Noct split a Magitek armor in two with a greatsword warp-strike, sparks of blue light spreading out from his sword and body as flames of red began to erupt from the machine.  _ That _ one was badass.

Prompto and Noct took another selfie in front of a cool-looking tree near the Vesperpool.

Prompto posed with his gun in front of a coeurl, its eye catching a gleam of flash. One of his finer achievements.

All four of them stood with the Disc of Cauthess in the background. One of his favorites.

Prompto and Iris smiled wide, making peace signs. That was one of his favorites, too; Iris loved selfies almost as much as he did.

Noctis and Ignis did a silly pose in front of Hammerhead. It looked so different back then.

Ignis smiled, turning to face the camera. He had just begun to utilize the kitchenette inside of their camper.

Ignis and Gladio looked at something off to the side. Out of focus in the background, Gentiana lingered like a specter.

Ignis swung from his lance into the cockatrice they were fighting. The core strength it must have taken...

Ignis stood in the desert, his legs outstretched. Prompto was never quite sure what had happened there…

Ignis faced the camera directly, behind him the subway — the same which had now become dilapidated and overgrown.

There were  _ lots _ of photos of Ignis.

Prompto touched his cheek. At some point, he had started to cry. Wiping his face with his bare arm, he felt childish.

_ What was I thinking? _

His cheeks burned.

Like Noctis, Ignis had always been destined for something greater than him.

_ He couldn’t love me, either. _

And he would have been content to just be friends. Still, against the odds, the darkness claiming the life they knew, their expectations, their worlds, Ignis and he had become more than that. In an age that felt endless, a time where life was, at times, indistinguishable from nightmares, they had found home in each other.

He looked again to Ignis’s subway photo, blankly staring back at him. Ignis and his meaningless platitudes.  _ If you mean them, why not just say them to me privately? Write me a note? Whisper it in passing? Why make a show of it? _

Ignis and his stupid, gorgeous face, dusted lightly with beauty marks, scarred only to highlight the flawless beauty of high cheekbones and an angled nose. White teeth shining from beneath stupid, lightly-tanned skin and pale lips, brightening the end-all, be-all of smiles.

Gritting his teeth, he grabbed a thick marker from his drawer. He stood. He walked over to that flawless picture, Ignis standing, smiling in the illumination of Prompto’s flashlight. Daring, inviting, casual, regal. Everything he could ever ask for. Everything he  _ needed _ .

He uncapped the marker. Its strong, alcoholic scent flooded his lungs. It was sickening.

Keeping his grip, he drew a long streak over his ex’s face, crossing out the eyes, then scribbling the rest of him out in a messy flurry of motion. No more perfect smile. No more chiseled cheeks. No more perfectly illuminated pockmarks, the wear and tear of years built up to refine that face now swathed in black.

He drew his hand away.

His stomach sank.

Covering his mouth with his hands, he dropped the marker, unheeding of where it rolled. A sob barely escaped him. Lungs forcing heavy breaths through clinging palms, Prompto fell to his knees, a heavy feeling soaking through from his gut into his muscles.

_ What have I done…? _

❦

Ignis was supposed to have been good with people.

No. No, that wasn’t true. He was supposed to have been good with  _ Noctis _ . That was all that had mattered back then.

For all their similarities, Noct and Prompto were quite different people. What had worked with one wouldn’t work with the other. What had worked then wouldn’t work now. Or ever again.

_ How to finesse this. _

Ignis sat at a full table, half of the people there likely to despise him — if not now, then soon. Auron, the man who’d come second to him in the election, quirked an eyebrow, staring quietly at blank eyes. Ignis could almost feel the energy of matching stares tingling on the skin of his face. He knew this much for certain: they always sat at the same order, going right from Auron: Quina, Zach, Ixi, himself, Adelbert, Garnet, Talcott, and Zozo. Each held their distinct opinions on every matter. Talcott had already begun transcribing their chatter.

Part of him wanted to be selfish.  _ All these names only complicate things. _

The rest of him knew he had been selfish enough already.

If there were but one good thing offered by this lot, it would all be worthwhile.  _ Just one _ .

These were the ones who he was dealing with. Before extra-regional leaders, before active matters in the city — before Prompto. His court, on some days seemingly determined to make life more complicated for him, came each with their own issues to every session, each with their own ways of approaching them. He wondered if things had been this difficult for Regis. Not big-picture situations, imperial war and sworn destinies and all. Little things. Approving construction. Rerouting channels. Edicts on rationing. Endless negotiation where things should’ve been simple. He wanted to be more than just a figurehead — a certain level of pride kept his hand in many matters — but clearly there had to be an adjustment in the chain of command. And there had to be more good people somewhere. Good people who could back him up. Good people who could herd all those cattle.

Good people, like—

“Well, now that we’re all here, it’d please me if we got to the point today.”

“And what, pray tell, is ‘the point’ today, Auron?” Ignis was short with the man.

“Oh, I’ve got a litany as usual, but I am a man of reason — I can see what stands before us as most pressing.” Auron steepled his fingers. “Initium Novum has grown up right under our noses. Our people should know every inch of this city —”

“Much of the city is still too dangerous to explore,” Garnet said.

“—yet these dangerous monsters reside as closely as Nox Street. Nox Street! Where children play!”

“I was hoping you’d have come up with a plan by now,” said Zach. “You know, if you’re going to bring this up again like no one’s addressed it.”

“I hope you do not call all that yelling we all did ‘addressing the situation’,” Garnet answered.

“I’ve submitted a draft to the city planning committee,” Auron returned. “All underground pathways are to be made inaccessible. Vacant buildings are to be assessed and permits required to access them. Same with our restricted routes -- signs are not enough. I won’t let these rats breed in comfort.”

“Is that all?” said Ixi. “What about the ‘more extreme measures’ you’d proposed last time?”

“Yelled,” said Garnet.

“Suspicious people will be checked for brands,” Auron continued. “As people found in possession of pro-Ifrit literature of any kind.”

“This is a breach of trust with the populace,” said Ignis, “and little proof of wrongdoing.”

“We apply this to past and present offenders only. If a book is found, we question them. If a brand is found, we make an example of them. We will not harbor nor abide terrorists.”

“I cannot say that I disagree,” said Adelbert. Oh, Adelbert — always the pessimist, and easily frightened besides. “There are clear indicators here. To love Ifrit in this age is to love doom for humanity. It is entirely counter to your lofty aims, Your Majesty.”

“I’m not assembling the Thought Police,” said Ignis. “Brands are considerable but not damnable. Initiates, we’ve witnessed, may not wear them. We cannot rely on such indicators. We have seen that they would rather die than talk. We must go to the source.”

“And how do you suggest we locate the source? Magic?” Auron leaned on his hands.

“The secret lies in the weapons. There are only so many spaces in which they could be produced within city limits, yet the prevalence of them here means they must not be far, else customs would have their volume aggressively documented. The space established in the tunnels below the statue of Lady Lunafreya was clearly a decoy production area, intended more for storage, as none of the machinery was found to be operational, and little of importance was found. Even the Magitek armor we defeated was barely operational. Production, and the root of this evil nest, must be linked, meaning they are either outliers or outside of the city entirely.”

“The Crownsguard have secured the city, correct?” asked Garnet.

“We need more of them for it to be effective,” said Adelbert.

“They’re stretched thin as it is,” said Ixi. “Exceptional as they are, I won’t feel secure until we have more recruits. Where will we find such people?”

“And we check if they part of I-N,” said Quina. “No spread seeds of evil!”

“What they said,” said Ixi.

Ignis leaned on a hand pensively. The lack of people was a problem. Even if Prompto and Celes each had the strength of several, they could only be in one place at a time.

Who knew how well Prompto would recover.

He couldn’t help but feel it was his fault.

A few inches to the left and his darling would’ve been ripped from this world. A world without Prompto...

_ “I hate you.” _

“Majesty?” Quina piped.

“I shall act on these considerations shortly,” he replied. “Next matter?”

❦

_ “Let us take a moment to remember the fallen.” _

Ignis’s words played again in Prompto’s head.

Zayd Johns.

‘Dagger’.

Maurus Tendlen.

In the time since the dawn, Prompto had slain three people himself, people who looked back at him with eyes like his, hearts like his.

_ Maurus Tendlen. _

He had attempted to rob the oldest refugee couple on Nox Street. He had acquired a dangerous weapon through then-unknown means. In retrospect, he may have been part of Initium Novum, though the autopsy turned up no tell-tale brand. A fan or an initiate, perhaps. Prompto had put him down when he attempted to fire at the chief. He hit him from afar. No one else was harmed.

_ Dagger. _

Real name unknown. They had boasted that they owned a gun and had been attempting to solicit someone with highly illegal goods; the resulting altercation, involving hostages and much the possibility of gunfire, led to Prompto putting a bullet through their head at midrange. They were found not to have a gun. Prompto was charged as guiltless.

He hadn’t felt guiltless. Didn’t feel guiltless.

Hyacinth of the Guard, his backup, had absorbed most of that blame. He didn't know what became of her after she left.

_ Zayd Johns. _

The man he’d shot in the heart just a few weeks ago. It had been too dark to see all the blood this time; he didn't escape its splash.

He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to shoot anybody. He didn’t want to kill anybody. Not anymore. There had been so much. Too much.

Death had to slow at some point.

Prompto rolled these three names through his mind continually. Did it on most nights when his mind was idle. Did it to drown out the memories of all those without names who, like himself, had been intended for carnage -- the army of like faces and bodies who had been unable to escape the miasma of the Starscourge, nor the firing of their very own SMGs.

Did it tonight, lying on his side, faced away from all his photos, trying to sleep.

Loose sticky notes stuck over a spectacled one’s many faces flapped inaudibly in the light breeze of the AC.

_ Zayd Johns. Dagger. Maurus Tendlen. _

_ How many more _ , he wondered.

_ Maurus Tendlen. Dagger. Zayd Johns. _

❦

_ Bzzzzz. _

_ Bzzzzz. _

_ Bzzzzz. _

Prompto turned over and slapped the face of his phone until it stopped vibrating. At some point, late night had blended into morning. He sunk back into his pillow, folding it up around his head, shutting out daylight.

A moment later, he realized that it hadn’t been the alarm.

Sunbeams blasting morning into his eyes, Prompto unlocked his phone to check the missed call when another call popped up. Iris.

“Mornin’.” A mumbled half-greeting. His lips were still stuck at the corners.

“Prompto, it’s almost eleven.”

_ Huh…? _

_ Shit! _

He bolted upright. “Shit!”

“I can cover for you, if you want.”

“How the hell can you do that?”

“I’ll call, say I’ve been taking care of you. You’re sick, right?”

“Uh…” Prompto forced out a couple weak coughs.

“Right. I’ll call back.”

“Thanks.”

Iris hung up. Prompto plopped his phone back to his side, a superior gravity pulling him back into a firm mattress. He  _ never _ missed work. Sighing, he rolled onto his side, reached into his bedside drawer, and pulled out a small bottle labeled “NRG”. Removing one of the small, white pills, he popped it into his mouth and swallowed it dry. If he wasn’t going to be at work, he needed to at least get something done around here...and no one else from work would be hanging around this area.

He placed the bottle back and lay down again, hands behind his head. He hoped everyone wasn’t too busy today, although he knew they were. Everyone was always busy. He hated putting this burden on them by not showing up...but at the same time, every fiber of his being told him that he needed this break.

Well, every action that had occurred since his discharge from the hospital had, too.

_ Still, it’s not like I’m totally out of commission _ , he told himself.  _ I’m fine, really. _ He twisted to the side in a light stretch, then quickly came back to center, a jolt of pain running through his chest.  _ Okay, maybe that’s a stretch. _

After lying there for a moment, staring at his blank ceiling — the only surface in the room not covered by photos — his phone buzzed again. He snatched it up as if it would fly away.

“Iris?”

“Okay, it’s taken care of. For real though, are you okay?”

“I don’t deserve a friend like you, Iris.”

“Stop that.”

“And I’m fine. Still just, pretty tired. I’ve gotta go to therapy again later today. I don’t wanna.”

“I want you to get back to one hundred percent. They’re trying, right? So you have to try, too.”

“I haven’t been a hundred in a long time.”

“Yeah… I guess no one has. Hey, you mind if I come over? Gladdy and I have something for you. I was gonna wait until your shift was over, but, well…”

“A gift? For me?”

“Yeah. Practical and cute! You’re gonna love it!” Iris’s excitement shone even over the phone.

“Well, sure, come on over.”

Feeling just too lazy to get up and even grab a bite to eat off a ration bar, Prompto decided to doze further until he heard a knock at the front door. The siblings Amicitia let themselves in. From the sound of it, someone else was with them.

Prompto slid out of bed finally and stretched lightly, dragging himself across the room. Unclothed save for a worn pair of sweatpants, his exit wound remained bandaged for sensitivity; not far from it, plainly visible even from a distance, a scar he’d incurred in a scuffle two years ago split his shoulder. Freckles had darkened under a new dawn, skin lighting up after such a long period of darkness to tender red hues where the dots were most condensed. It was all quite mundane to him at this point, though he found himself peeking at his new chest scar whenever he changed clothes.

He walked into the living area plainly, to be met immediately with a big, fluffy sight.

“For you!” Iris spread her arms happily.

Prompto walked closer to the furball that sat in his den. Tall, golden brown, speckled with white and black and grey, with a smile that could melt hearts — an Aussie, one of his favorite breeds of dog, stood before him, calmly anticipating what he would do next. Its eyes, like Prompto’s, were a clear, crisp blue.

“Y’all seriously got me a dog?” Prompto said, unable to hide his reflexive smile. He noticed that the cute shirt it was wearing was not just for show — it also wore a vest, on the side of which was printed “SERVICE”. “A...service dog?”

“Fully trained.” Iris sat on Prompto’s couch as he also took his seat, the dog brushing up to him in a friendly manner. “We...know you’ve been having a rough time, and we thought this dog would be perfect for you.”

“Don’t give me any credit — this was all her idea,” said Gladio as he sat in the chair across from them, setting a bag filled with their lunch on the cheap table between them. “Apparently, she’s been hanging around dog shelters between bounties and whatever else.”

“Someone has to look out for the dogs,” Iris said. “But now this dog can look out for you! She’s just the sweetest thing you can find this side of Lucis.”

“So, like… I’m just supposed to just, like, pet her a whole lot?” Prompto’s arms were already wrapped around the dog’s upper body, fluffing her up as she sat there calmly. “That’s the greatest service anyone could offer. What’s her name?”

“She doesn’t have one. You can name her. Isn’t that exciting?” Iris put her fingertips together in anticipation. “What’s the angle gonna be? Silly dog names? Actual people names? Abstract concepts?”

Prompto buried his face in the Aussie’s fur. He loved animals, especially dogs, and never thought he’d get to just... _ have _ one. He’d always play with strays when he had time, but it was never quite enough. “Mm… She feels like a ‘Shelley’ to me.”

“‘Shelley?’ What about something dramatic, like ‘Splendor’?” Gladio had, surprisingly, already given this a lot of thought.

“Let Prompto go with his heart!”

“Yeah, dude. I’m really feelin’ ‘Shelley’.” Prompto took another look at the dog, who wagged her tail gently. “See, she likes it, too.”

The trio talked for a bit, discussing all the dog-related items they’d brought with Shelley (they had the works, including a large sack of dry food they’d managed to procure) as well as a few generalities about life. Before long, it was time for Gladio’s next shift.

Gladio stood. “Well, I’ve got to get on. Keep me posted, all right?”

“You betcha.”

The concern in Gladio’s eyes came through to Prompto. He must have seen how truly tired Prompto felt. “Take care of yourself. See ya, Iris. Don’t run off on me, now.”

They waved Gladio out. As soon as the door was closed, Iris turned Prompto, her look softening. Prompto could feel his whole body bracing. She had... _ personal  _ questions, and he had nowhere to run, no place to excuse himself. Though, if he had to talk to anybody…

“Really, Prompto, how are you feeling?”

“Pretty okay, all things considered.” Generalizing.

“I meant to ask you about Ignis.”

“O-oh.” Didn’t work.

A moment of tense silence. Looking away, Prompto buried his face partially back into Shelley’s fur.

“Prompto—”

A groan, sort of a pained sound. “I — Sorry. I should’ve told you.”

“No, I’m not forcing you. You’re not obligated to tell me — I only found out on accident. But I know how you get when you try to hold in your feelings.”

A sigh. “Yeah. I still should've told you.” He hesitated. “Ignis hates me.”

“It doesn’t seem that way.” Iris paused. She felt that she really didn’t know as much about Ignis as she should have, especially now that he was king. “I guess neither of you looked very happy at that awards thing.”

Prompto kept his gaze fixed on a random point on the wall. His mind ran.

“Why on earth would he hate you? Or why would anyone, for that matter? How could anyone hate Prompto Argentum?”

“Maybe we got too familiar.”

“There has to be some other problem, not you. He’s got a lot to think about.”

“I guess.”

“Prompto…” Iris shifted closer to him, leaning over and placing her hands on his shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“Y’know, I’m not even upset at myself anymore. I — I did what I felt was right. My heart told me to do this. He wouldn’t even tell me why. He wouldn’t even face me on what could’ve been my deathbed.”

“I think he’s still trying to reach out to you. Why else would he —”

“Well, he’s doing shitty. He knows where I live. Where I work. He — knows everything about me.”

Prompto dropped his face completely into Shelley’s neck, clutching the dog gently. He had to calm himself before a scream could build.

Iris couldn’t find any words.

A yellow-tufted head pulled itself back up. “Y’know, he’s never told me he’s loved me. Said things like, ‘I’m privileged to have you in my company.’ And I thought, y’know, that’s fine, everything doesn’t need to be  _ words _ . We had so much more than  _ words _ . Anyone can say ‘I love you’, doesn’t mean anything. That’s really what I thought. We’d been through so much together that we know more about each other than we do ourselves. You can’t break that, especially in this world, right?

“But…” A sharp groan. “‘Marry’ is a word. And he...didn’t reject that word. He rejected  _ me _ . I don’t know why. I don’t know if I wanna know anymore.”

He turned towards Iris with darkened eyes, still leaning on his dog. Her own glance had fallen weak.

“I’m not mad at myself, but it really is my fault. Yeah, it’s my fault for letting things just go undefined for so long. I...didn’t want to define things. I was honestly fine with letting things just sorta  _ be _ . Appropriate for the apocalypse, right?”

“No one can fault you for that.”

“So many people have come and gone. I saw a few, y’know, just like you have. Right before my eyes. Girl smashed by a Red Giant, daemon massacre in a temporary colony, a whole group of people trapped by a Bomb horde. Next minute, gone. Either one of us could’ve been next. Getting attached then didn’t make sense. I don’t know what I even expected. But...we made it through. We made it together. We even got to see Noct one last time. I hate to admit it, but for a while, I...I really thought maybe...maybe I’d be dead before he returned. I tried not to, y’know, but. Shit happens.

“I can’t really say that things are... _ stable _ , now, in life, but we’ve got a lot going now, whole ideas and systems that seem to be functioning, we have light, we have our city back, we have some food, we’re rebuilding, and...it seemed like I could maybe… I dunno. Fuck. This probably isn’t making any sense. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“I can barely even articulate my thoughts. I’m just dumping shit on you now. You don’t need to be burdened with any of this.”

“Prompto, you do know what a  _ friend  _ is, right? We’re supposed to talk. We can dump on each other, too. There’s a lot going on that we can’t just hole up.”

Another sigh. “...Yeah. Thanks, Iris. I… I’m just… I don’t know if this can be fixed.”

“You still love him.” Not a question.

“I-I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

“Exactly what did he say to you?”

“He said, ‘I can’t, sorry.’”

“Wow. That’s it?”

“Well, when he finally visited me in the hospital, he tried to tell me some other excuses, stuff about ‘having space’ and shit. That’s when he thought I was asleep.”

“I’m gonna be honest with you, Prompto… Ignis comes off as sort of a dick sometimes. I know he’s not, but it happens. I don’t think he’s  _ trying  _ to hurt you.”

Prompto knew a lot of people tended to think Ignis was unapproachable — his lofty manner of speech, his physique, his dress, his reserved nature, and his stunning, out-of-your-league beauty. That was why, as king, he often dressed more casually than regally; why he was more often found in the common streets than in the presence of “important people” and the comfort of the Citadel. Deep down, with a duality sure to split his heart further, beneath fresh layers of spite, he still felt defensive of Ignis. Because he  _ knew _ Ignis.

“Is that why you shot him?”

Iris rose a hand to her mouth, then turned away before her pained expression could linger in Prompto’s vision.

Too late.

“...I’m sorry, Iris. I know how horrible that must’ve been for you. That whole cave situation...I never even asked you about it. I, I’m sorry, really. I don’t even know what you must have been feeling since then, but you’ve already gone out of your way for me. I told you, I don’t deserve a friend like you.”

Iris turned back to face Prompto, obviously still hurt but expression easing. “It’s okay. All I did was get stuck in a cave for a few days. You got dumped by the king and then blasted by a horrible shadow group… I dunno if I’d want to trade.”

“Is that really all that happened?”

Iris turned her attention to the dog, lacing her fingers in the fur behind her ears. “...I got there a week before you all found me. I brought a few days’ supplies thinking it wouldn’t take much longer than that. The rubies were deeper in than I thought, but it was fine — less chance of getting disturbed. Or so I thought. Some people still showed up… Seemed to be miners from outside of the city. I told them to claim their own spots, and we stayed clear of each other.

“Then one day I hear gunfire that almost deafens me. I look from my hidey-spot, y’know, where you guys found me — there were these men with guns. Big ones. So big, I’m not even sure how they got ‘em down there. Apparently they aimed to stow them someplace, so they must’ve been special, ‘cause, you know, it was super damp down there.”

Prompto’s mind went back to the weapons they were keeping at HQ. Many of the Glaive replicas were of stainless steel or mithril, easily stored in many environments when freshly produced. It was frightening to think how many could be out there, especially with that caliber of replication.

“From the way they were talking, and what they had just done, I knew they’d kill me if they saw me,” she continued. “I didn’t have my axe, so I decided to take ‘em out quietly before they could even figure things out.

“It was tough.”

“I bet, if they’re all heavily armed and as crazy as the fuckers we found beneath Luna.”

“I still can’t believe they tried to bio-blast you. It’s not like gas masks alone can protect you from that stuff.”

“They’re clearly more dangerous than we thought.”

“Luckily, these guys didn’t seem as eager to use their guns after that first ear-splitting blast, which made it a bit easier, I guess. But they were armored, too. They had mithril armor — they had been talking about getting more mithril.  _ Lots  _ of it. I had to tear through it with my pickaxe, and even then that wasn’t enough…”

Iris began to tremble slightly. Her hands had become latched in the dog’s fur.

“Iris…”

“I was exhausted after that, and I didn’t know if any more would be coming, so I took one of their guns and hid. That was the day I was supposed to be gone. More did come. I...had to take care of them, too. I couldn’t risk being caught.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Honestly, I’ve been through worse.”

She was still shaking.

“Have you told Gladio any of this?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to worry him. I haven’t told him…” A long pause. “A lot.”

“If he ever finds out ‘a lot’, he’s gonna be ultra-worried all at once!”

“That’s why he’ll never know.” Iris shot Prompto a dead serious look.

“You know I won’t tell him your business.”

“Good. I can’t deal with that right now.”

“...Sorry.”

“I love Gladdy. He can just be...a little much. It’s not fair. You remember, he wouldn’t even train me when I asked. I had to get Cor to do it, and he didn’t even have any faith in me as an Amicitia!”

“Well, he’s proud of you, now,” said Prompto, with the faintest of smiles. “Gladio’s proud, too. He’s just, you know.”

They spoke at the same time. “Gladio.”

“The apocalypse must’ve amped up his big brother tendencies. Don’t let it get to you. If you talk to him about what you’ve been through, he might actually respect you. After all, look at ya — you’ve gotten this far with fewer scars than he has.”

“You know, you have a point.” Iris smiled her award-winning smile, gently petting Shelley. She moved her other hand to Prompto’s back, taking care to avoid the bandaged area as she rubbed gently. “Are you feeling any better?”

“A little. You?”

“I’ll be fine.”

❦

Prompto was roused from a mid-afternoon nap by a knock at the door. He had fallen asleep crookedly on the couch; a jolt went through his spine and muscles as he sat up. “Ugh… Door’s open.”

He rubbed both of his eyes, withdrawing his hands to see Celes standing there in her new uniform. Shelley politely sniffed at her legs before sitting back in the corner.

“O-oh, good, um…” Prompto turned to look at his wall clock. “Afternoon, Chief.”

“I wanted to check on you,” she said, sitting on the chair across from the couch.

Prompto gave a weak laugh. “Heh… Sorry, Chief. I’ve got a secret, and that secret is that I’m not really sick today. Apologies for skipping.”

Celes raised her eyebrows. “You’re...not sick? Pardon my saying so, but you look unwell.”

“Huh? Really?” Prompto stood up and walked into the bathroom offside, flicking on the light and looking into the mirror. The skin of his face looked unusually pale, especially under fluorescent light, and the bags under his eyes were dark and much larger than usual. “Wow, you’re right.” He stepped back out, flopping back onto the couch. “Well, Iris called in for me because I overslept.”

“Clearly your body still needs the rest. Miss Amicitia believes so as well. If things haven’t changed by tomorrow, please see the doctor.”

“Will do, Chief.”

“Are you going to always address me that way in a civilian setting now?”

“What? Titles are fun.”

“I’m still not used to it.”

“Should I call you ‘Firekeeper’ instead?”

“Don’t be silly.”

“You know who you’re even talking to?”

Celes looked around with a faint smile.  She hadn’t been inside of Prompto’s home before, and it was...less organized than she had anticipated. Old papers, some of them work-related, covered shelves and floors alike; ration wrappers and dishes sat near or on top of full trash cans that must have been that way for some time; flowers of white and purple, some of which were beginning to wilt, filled any space that would've been otherwise empty.

“Sorry about the mess. I meant to get started kinda getting things cleaned up a few weeks ago, but…”

“It’s understandable. Prompto, while I’m here, I’d like to inform you of something that occurred yesterday…”

Receiving her serious tone, Prompto sat up straight, hands on knees, ready to listen.

“You remember the person we spoke to in the hospital? All bandaged up, very vague?”

“Yeah? They say something?”

“I spoke with them again yesterday. I told them that they could yet be redeemed. I asked again how, in any words, we could find more about this group. Even the vaguest of hints would have been invaluable. I think… I think I conducted myself well. Still, they said nothing to me but their name… Bertram.”

Prompto gritted his teeth.

“I began asking him every question I could. His ties to the group. Higher-ups. Why he’d done it. How. It all spilled out of me…”

“Is he still there? I’ll go talk to him.” Prompto was more willing to be rough with Bertram.

“As I talked, I noticed a flame growing from his arm. It quickly consumed his entire body. A fire unit had to be called in before it spread. Even as they extinguished the flame, his entire being, down to his bone, burned into ash.”

“...Spontaneous combustion? Really?”

“I feel as though we are dealing with something dangerous, something beyond our reach.” She looked solemn, glancing down at her hands set softly in her lap. Prompto gazed at her with worry. “At any rate,” she continued, “we will...need to continue investigating as we have been, for the safety of Insomnia’s people. And we will need to replace the four we lost, the Interceptor, as well as to continue growing our forces, if we intend to keep defending the city.”

“I’ll contact the Hunters. They’ve got to have good people for us, or at least leads.”

Celes rose from the chair. “You get your rest first. Then get yourself back in order. We need you, Prompto. I need you.” She nodded, heading for the door.

Prompto nodded back.

❦

He wished that he could heed Celes’s advice. His temporarily diminished role at work, his therapy, and his now ample spare time more often had him feeling useless. This feeling he'd been actively fighting for over two solid decades — for most of his life. To settle into idleness was a death sentence in his mind. 

He had to move. To get out. To walk. Go anywhere. At some point, he convinced the Guard to help him train, get his drawing and stance back up to speed. Celes had been against his swift reengagement with the force, which he mentally side-eyed; of course, she wasn’t trying to co-opt his one most important position and was genuinely concerned for him, but he wanted to be there. He wanted to fulfill his duty. He had a lot of pride in his job. He had been Crownsguard for the Chosen King. He was “one of the strongest men in this world”.

He walked the street with his still-developing slouch, feet dragging in the ubiquitous debris of ruin. Thinking of the Guard, words came vividly to mind.  _ They’re getting along fine. _

Often he found himself taking the backstreets from his apartment complex down to what people called the “lower tiers” of the city. Neither his home nor this area were very far from the Citadel, and Prompto, in his position of importance, had been offered somewhat nicer lodgings even closer. Prompto, like Ignis, wanted to stay connected with the people. Thus, Prompto selected his location not far from Iners Street, at the edge of the poorest district of Sector A. There was only one of the Guard assigned to patrol this area regularly — himself — and, before now, he had found himself more busy with his duties as chief.

From here, one could hear the low, mechanical hum of the nearest factory, one of those in operation whose power was mostly owed to the sea; occasionally, the streets were covered in a dense fog that wouldn’t lift for days. The unnatural mist helped to cover the destruction of a past era. A stray Magitek engine had broken down here; at farther reaches of the district, its fallout had tattered the area until all was lain low, leaving a barren yet livable husk just barely shielded from wild elements and still distant from nature. The sight of it now, though it fit against the industrialized patch of world, still chilled him, something stopping short of a crater centering a tableau seen only from a higher road, from which buildings further out seemed to be fleeing. 

Thankfully, people in these desperate parts took decent care of each other. All had seen enough in the darkness of their years to know what was at stake. They, like most people, didn’t have much to possess outside of their own lives and clung to them dearly. Crumbling homes kept standing by post-war inertia, a hollowed-out war machine probably still crawling with some form of eldritch poison, were still better than open squalor. They made the most of it. Prompto checked in on the elderly and their pets — for, unfortunately, many had wound up here, without families to care for them. He made sure they were fed, had access to clean water, and would arrange for someone to come help if anyone needed other necessities, medicine, mobile assistance. One by himself could only do so much. Occasionally, he would find that an elder had passed sometime in the recent past. One body had sat decomposing for who knew how long; in fact, his first official visit to the area saw this body taken away, their makeshift family of street-worn elders watching the solemn deed. Since the Fall, cremation had been the way to go. The light that humanity had harnessed would see people into eternity. Prompto agreed with this method. It preserved more space; space to expand for the next generation, to rebuilt, to improve life for those who continued to survive it, because life persisted.

Some had taken to smearing the ashes onto themselves. To living in the ash. Living ashen lives.

He felt better when he visited people like this.

He knew it was bad. To see the way they struggled, empty and dust-covered homes cold, looking thin and shaky with Alzheimer’s and hunger and loneliness...to see them and to think,

_ At least this isn’t me _ .

These people were no different. Only circumstance had put him in a more desirable position. Only privilege kept him standing. He and they were the same. Fewer puppies and princes in his life and he’d already be dead.

_ But I’m not them. _

Each time he swung by the slum with news for the hard-of-sight or supplies for the gaunt, or even little more than kind words, they regarded him as a hero. He, who felt so small, small as a grain of sand sometimes, a hero. He who judged them. He who, on occasion, did force them from his mind.

But when he remembered Ignis, all the stress that the crown and everything surrounding it brought, he pushed those thoughts aside and remembered these people.

These people, the sight of whom he’d described to the king several times.

These people, who, during a bygone era, could have been his neighbors. Like Mrs. Oshiro, who always set pies in her window. Like Mr. Viridi, who he always passed on his jogging route.

These people made life worth living.

...No one would take away that gnawing feeling of guilt.

Not even dark thoughts could overshadow his feelings about Ignis.

The wound was too fresh.

❦

People were living there. They would rebuild.

“It begins now,” Prompto stated.

He would rebuild, too. Simple as that.

_ Easier said than done, _ said a voice in his mind.

❦

Closer to the Citadel, in the opposite direction from Dino’s jewelry shop, a tattoo parlor had opened. A “friend” of Iris’s worked here — a tall, quiet friend whose deeper merits must have come forth in other contexts. They turned out not to be the only loose connection Prompto had in this place — Rydia, a reject from the Guard (in contrast to the Tall Quiet, she was friendly and much too gentle for their work), worked with a gruff customer, tattoo pen in hand, proving depth beyond her outer mien. Her customer turned to watch Prompto step inside, wild purple hair falling about his face. Today, she had the fortune of working on Ultros.

“Prompto, what happened? You have a breakup or something?” Rydia smiled teasingly, somehow able to read into things too effectively...or maybe it was only just a guess. Still, she and Ultros spent a good minute staring at Prompto’s hair, buzzed now on the sides and back, further up on the left than the right.

Prompto swiped his remaining lock behind his ear, then rubbed the smoother side of his head reflexively. “Rydia, you’re still working here?”

“I found a guy that’ll let me test on him! He even paid me!”

“I thought you were crazy, Ultros, but now I know for sure.” Prompto squinted at the new marks being drawn onto Ultros’s body. “Hm… Looks good, though.”

Ultros gave a thumbs-up.

“Hold still!” Rydia yelled. “This isn’t going away, you know.”

Prompto took the chair beside Ultros’s, the only other in the cramped building. The walls were lined with newspaper clippings; mostly lacking photos, mostly due to a lack of photographers (not  _ everything _ could fall to Prompto), the words blended into a kind of grey mush, even if artfully arranged up close.

“This is nothing,” said Ultros, seeming unfazed by the buzzing pen digging patterns into his back, nor the smell of the place, one that Prompto could only describe as “ _ old _ ”. “I had planned on doing something irezumi-style before everything happened.”

“Are you some kind of  _ mafioso _ ?” Though, it wouldn’t surprise Prompto.

“Heh… Wouldn’t you like to know! Gwee hee hee!”

Tall Quiet approached Prompto, pulling on their second glove, supplies at the ready. “Just piercings?”

Prompto swallowed. “Yeah.” He hadn’t ever been pierced before, though he was certain he could take it. Something about the whole preparation of it, arranging an appointment, sitting in a special chair, made him nervous, like going to the doctor. He shut his eyes to whatever they were doing to prepare. He didn’t want to know. He just wanted to get it done. He kept them shut even as they prepped pertinent spots on Prompto’s face, cold spots dabbed here and there on his nose, his lips, his ears, the smell of alcohol stinging his nostrils.

He felt a tug on his left ear lobe. A light pinch of a sharpened fingernail in its center. “Here good?”

“Sure.”

A small brush of metal replaced their touch.

“One, two, three.”

_ Clip. _

A thin, tiny stud was slipped into the new hole. The metal switched sides. It was definitely some kind of gun. Prompto had seen them before, long ago.  _ Stapling holes into my body... _

“One, two, three.”

_ Clip _ .

He winced. The pain of the other hadn’t died down yet.

“Doing okay?”

“Yeah.”

He’d never done anything like this before. He never thought that he would by himself. Iris had a bet with him; would he get a tattoo or piercings before she got her next? Even the idea of something as small as her shoulder tattoo, a sharp peregrine falcon, hurt him to think about.

The chair reclined slightly. Prompto felt his weight shift, leaning his head back; another bit of metal poked at the bridge of his nose.

“One, two, three.”

_ Snip _ .

That one didn’t hurt as much as he anticipated, even as a small bar stretched the skin of his nose ever wider. It was quickly replaced by studs.

“You wanna open your eyes?”

“Nah.”

“Such trust.”

The chair reclined further. Prompto felt as though he were on a rocket, ready to launch. Ready to leave all the world behind. Shortly, another bit of metal lined up with his septum, clenching from either side.

“You’re sure you wanna do this all at once?”

“Yeah.”

Each jolt of pain, however brief, had been immediately unwelcome yet thrilling.

It made him forget.

“You’re turning red.”

“It’s fine. I had chili for lunch.”

“Must be nice.”

_ Snip _ . No countdown.

Prompto winced audibly, keeping still. His eyes flashed open to Tall Quiet exchanging tools, picking cotton swabs to absorb the blood that begun to drain from Prompto’s new wound. He gathered his composure quickly.

While the bars set in his face, Tall Quiet grabbed something that looked like a pair of scissors. Prompto kept his eyes opened.

“Multitasking, huh?”

“I could make it last longer. Some people like that.”

Prompto would shut his mouth, but this tool was intended for his lower lip, a pair of snake bites. It latched on, again less painfully than he expected.

“Close yer eyes.”

Prompto kept them open. Without hesitation, they did it again —

_ Snip _ —

And followed up by continuing to tend to these new openings. At least this musty old place was clean. He had thought of getting pierced for so long — it would really have gone well with his old Crownsguard garb, back in the day — but he didn’t think back-alley puncture wounds would fare well in the new world. Thankfully, it wasn’t an issue.

He closed his eyes again as his face throbbed lightly with new sensations. His septum piercing was filled in a way that was simultaneously foreign and very familiar, like something he had anticipated for ages. He let himself wash in these new feelings, stinging pressure from alcohol-applied balls of cotton and the touch of metal still fresh on his skin, before jolting back upward as the chair’s recline latch was released.

_ Don’t bring me down now. _

He noticed Ultros staring at him, angled just so that he could see all of Prompto’s face. Something between genuine astonishment and admiration had dawned on his face, even seeing Prompto’s incomplete augmentation. The shop owner blocked his view again, intending to finish the job quickly so that everyone could get back to their lives.

The sensations were only temporary. The thoughts would never cease.

_ What about what you promised me? _

He’d get a tattoo next time.

❦

He wished he could teleport home. His entire face stung.

Across the street, he saw the Glaive leading Ignis somewhere and ducked into a side alley.

❦

_ “Prompto, what do you miss most about that decade?” _

_ “Miss?” _

_ “Yes. Miss.” _

_ “Well, let’s see. I miss freezing my ass off like it’s another gods-damned ice age. I miss all the powdered mush they passed off for food at various havens. I miss not being able to tell what time it is. Oh, and I miss not knowing where you are at any given point in time.” _

_ “It’ll never be that bad again.” _

_ “You sure about that, Specs?” _

_ “I promise.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the looong transition chapter!
> 
> I've caught up with what I've written so far due to Life. I intend to write ahead more soon. The next couple chapters will be slightly different; I'm looking forward to writing them, but it's also gonna be a tough balancing act with what the boys are going through and everything else happening. And by tough I mean "why am I doing this to them"
> 
> I feel the need to mention that I hate downer endings (which explains why I love FFXV, right), so this is all eventually, definitely leading up to something more than vague and bittersweet hope. One could even say...a very self-indulgent good ending. :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. A Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Prompto… I am ever glad to know that you’re still alive...and that you’re Iris’s friend.”

Ultros breached a dull silence in the Crownsguard HQ’s break room to lift its spirits. In one hand, he held a small, brown paper bag.

“Guess what! Harvest’s in, y’all!”

Red perked up. “Coffee? Real-ass, actual coffee?”

“Compliments of Sidhar, the best barista this side of the apocalypse! Thought we’d finally earned a bag. Time to dust off that machine and see if we can’t get these brewing!”

As Red and Ultros got their brew on, Red noticed something peeking out from beneath Ultros’s sleeve. “New ink, too? World, keep on turning.”

“That side’s almost done,” he said, pausing to unbutton and roll his sleeve up slightly. Thin black lines on pale skin detailed the tail of some large beast, the end of which wrapped around his wrist.

“So, it’s gonna be all six?”

“Yeah. I can show you later.”

“Gonna do your face too?”

“Oh, hell no.” Ultros smirked, observing the “XIII” tattoo that set just below Red’s left eye. “I’m just too beautiful for that.”

The old coffee machine, which happened to be one of the best-kept devices in the building, was specially made to handle real coffee, not the premade crud the group had grown accustomed to, and the familiar scent of it warmed the air. Rhythmic grinding and spouts of water filled the room as anticipation built and people began to line up for their drinks.

“Guess what, guys.”

Another voice — their new chief’s — entered the break room. Everyone within turned to face the door as Celes and Fran entered, followed by Gladiolus, the king, and another Kingsglaive.

“Evening, Majesty,” Ultros said, continuing to mind his coffee. 

The Glaives blocked the door as Ignis came forward. Celes looked irritated that Ultros hadn’t come to attention. The king spoke.

“That wonderful smell… Is that Ebony?” Ignis asked, following the scent closer.

“Uh...dunno, never had it,” Ultros replied.

“Ebony was made from a particular type of Accordan bean that had always been difficult to grow in Lucis. Perhaps the slight adjustment in climate has made it more favorable here.” Ignis approached Ultros. “May I?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” Ultros handed him his cup. “You take coffee black?”

“Indeed. Good coffee needs nothing added. That’s what was great about Ebony.” Ignis took a sip. “Ah. Yes, this is definitely it. Superb.”

The short, wild-haired man wasn’t usually unnerved by the king — after all, he was just another flesh-and-blood human, and no prophesied savior besides — but he had been caught “off-guard”. Ultros looked up at Ignis, his gaze unreturned. At least he seemed to be in a good mood. “To what do we owe your visit today, Majesty?” His tone, as always, was playful.

Ignis’s coffee cup hovered just slightly below his nose. The room felt full, murky shadows blocking the light of what could be a large window, or perhaps just his nerves.  _ To the point, then. _

“We knew so little about Bertram, didn’t we.”

The room fell silent, the mood going dim.

“We didn’t know that he had been a Galahdan refugee,” he continued. “Barely knew his affiliation with the outposts closer to home, such as where he was found. I know that Prompto vetted him — as he vetted all of you — and...with an all-too-keen insight...thought he knew what he needed to know. Still, Initium Novum claimed that man. At some point, perhaps not when they first met, perhaps not even until recently, the bastards claimed his heart and mind. To know when and how this happens… This is to be a shared responsibility of ours. In this way, we should look out for one another, when there are so few of us. It’s difficult to know, but a lot is at stake.

“You know this well, now. Like the Starscourge, IN intends to destroy what’s left of humanity from the inside out. Like Ifrit.” Ignis paused, sipping more of his coffee. “Deputy Fran?”

Fran stood at attention. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Could you describe to me Ultros’s tattoos?”

Ultros tensed, shooting a look toward Fran. She maintained a stoic disposition as she complied.

“Along his left arm, the image of Leviathan. Along his right, the image of Shiva. Along the right side of his back, the image of Ifrit. Opposite it, the image of Ramuh, incomplete. Miscellaneous Lucian runes here and there.”

“What of it?” Ultros demanded. “I’m gettin’ the Six. You got something against tattoos?”

“I was informed recently that you received a tattoo of Ifrit,” Ignis stated, voice flat.

“Yeah. He’s new. He’s still one of the Astrals, right?”

“An image of Ifrit was found on Bertram’s body not long before his demise. I’m not trying to link—”

“Yes you are, Majesty.” Ultros’s sharp nails gripped into his palms. “Y’know what I heard growing up? Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it, or somethin’ like that. I’m not gonna forget my history.” Ultros turned to face everyone else, pulling open his shirt, mindless of the button snapping off. His chest was mostly blank, save for the head of Leviathan and hair of Shiva that bled over from his shoulder. “Y’know what’s goin’ right here, in the middle? The King of Light and the Oracle. It’s thanks to them I’m livin’ and breathin’ today!” His chest began heaving with emotion. “I met the Oracle, y’know. I was small, like, a teen. I’d become sick, no one to help me, no idea what it was. She healed me. From that moment on, I knew she could heal the world! I didn’t have to worry about anything!”

He turned back toward Ignis, glowering so hard that he might have become visible to him by heat alone. “The Oracle spared a moment for a little punk like me. She gave me some of that magic energy… She thought my life was worth saving. And now? To be lumped in with Bertram? To be mentioned in the same paragraph, in the same  _ book _ ?” Ultros looked around the room, harsh gaze falling on all of his comrades. “I’ll tell y’all right now, I trust y’all with my life, and if any of you fuckers betray us like Bertram betrayed us, I will  _ personally _ shoot you.”

“Ultros, enough. I am only here to talk. I am not detaining you.”

“Damn right you’re not.”

Ultros stormed out, leaving behind any whims of coffee. An awkward silence hung for a moment later.

“I trust all of you,” Ignis said finally to a room still dim. “I just would like you to be aware of the implications of your actions from here on. Auron would have me check every last one of you for brands. I have no desire to do this. I only wish for you to keep on your toes. We will be expanding the Guard and have enough to look out for.”

Ignis finished his coffee as the others lightly buzzed.

“That is all.”

❦

The Glaive escorted Ignis back to the Citadel.

Along the way, Ignis couldn’t tell just what was off.

Lightly moist stone squelched subtly underfoot as they proceeded. The air was humid. It was a day he’d prefer to stay indoors.

_ Something’s not right _ . The ground felt...too firm. The grooves were unfamiliar.  _ This  _ is  _ Sector A…? _

“Careful, Your Majesty,” said his second Glaive as they came up to an intersection. Gladio halted in front of the king, cautioning him to a stop.

“What’s the matter?”

“Road’s changed recently,” Gladio answered. “There’s still some debris lying around.”

_ Ah, that would explain it.  _ “Then reconstruction’s going well?”

“For the most part,” said the other Glaive. “Roads’d be done if not for the storm.”

“Ah. Yes.”

He remembered the previous night.

Inside of his chamber, the curtains always remained drawn. He had curled up inside of darkness and blankets, even despite the unseasonably warm weather, the great torrent of water falling from the sky unable to penetrate the room even with sound. He lay there, wide awake but absolutely tired, and thought,

_ It’d be a good night for companionship, wouldn’t it? _

❦

“I trust him.”

“Why?”

“He’s genuine.”

Gladio escorted Prompto to a worksite on the cusp of Sector B.

“Not enough people in this world are genuine,” Gladio continued. “The walls of society got trashed, but the minute we moved back here people seemed to want to start faking again. Some people, anyway.”

“Yeah.”

“Like these walls, these buildings, implied that we get to go back.”

“I get it, though.”

“Really?”

“Some of this stuff survived pretty decently. There’s nostalgia. It’ll probably change once there’s more kids.”

“A new generation, huh. Yeah. Yeah, definitely.”

The road begun stacking with debris.

“Don’t you trust him? You chose him.”

“I chose Bertram, too.”

“Bertram was a prick. Like I was saying: completely fake.”

“That was in a different way, though.”

“Yeah, a worse way. Note, I’m not blaming you.”

“Sure.”

“I’m not! Sometimes it’s hard to know. And, well, we’re...kind of desperate. For a grip, we almost accepted anybody who could swing a pitchfork. Even the Glaive.”

“I guess.”

“He took advantage of your kindness. Y’gotta look out for that.”

“Usually, I do.”

The two men came to a stop at the sight of a construction site. Much of the equipment had toppled over, sturdy beasts of iron turned to broken scrap in the span of a night. People were already working on clearing it; only about half of them were properly equipped.

Prompto hid his concern. “Thank goodness no one was hurt last night.”

“Let’s hope danger keeps away.” Gladio looked around once more. “Need anything, call Vaan.”

“Sure. Why’d you come, anyway?”

“Vaan’s not gonna check to see if your right side’s doing okay enough for this.”

“Right. Thanks.”

“Don’t push yourself.”

A worker approached, handing Prompto a hard hat.

❦

Prompto had intended to help sort the mess out by directing what things people would place where. All metal was recyclable; even Prompto had his small cache of metallic gadgets and doodads, so even broken machinery maintained its worth, a clear contrast to his former life with its many disposables. The rocks here would be moved by hand until machinery was restored. Once that was clear, the functional equipment could be serviced.

Of course, they ended up short-handed. Several people hadn’t shown. Prompto helped clear rubble as rocks passed from hand to hand. He constantly insisted he was fine, even when a light, colder rain began to fall. He lent a woman his hard hat and continued on when a premature darkness took the sky. He had to be convinced to stop when nightfall threatened their vision.

❦

He heard a knock on his door.

A cough. “Id’s oben.”

Shelley greeted Iris with happy tail wags as Iris stepped through Prompto’s front door. She pet the dog with her free hand as she back-kicked the door shut.

“Iris?” Prompto’s voice called from his bedroom. He saw her set down something that looked like a thermos as she removed her jacket. “Why’re you still hangin’ around here? Usually we don’ ged to keeb you for very long.”

“Usually you’re not almost getting yourself killed every time I turn my back,” she retorted, laying the jacket across his couch. She went into his kitchen and picked up a bowl and a spoon, reclaiming her thermos and walking towards the bedroom.

_ Cough _ .

She set the bowl on the nightstand beside his bed as he sat up to lie against the headboard. His nose and his ears were almost cartoonishly red.

“You look like you ran face-first into a door.” She stooped down, unscrewed the lid of her thermos, and poured out its contents — hot chicken soup.

“Where’d you get thad?”

“It’s not important.” She finished pouring, adding the spoon, then lightly blowing on it. It was still too hot.

“Id’s nod?”

“You should listen to Gladdy sometimes, you know,” she said between puffs.

“When do I nod?”

She looked up and gestured toward Prompto vaguely yet emphatically.

“He woulda done the same thing if he weren’ so busy already.”  _ Cough, sniff _ .

After a moment more, she handed Prompto the bowl, which he set atop a pile of blankets as he ate.

She took a seat beside him. “You have to take a break, Prompto. If you don’t now, when would you ever? You’re just gonna get worse if you keep this up. This is your opportunity to rest.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

Prompto put his spoon back down, a long, drawn-out sigh following. Iris was momentarily afraid she had offended him.

“Honestly, I...I’m a little afraid to be lefd alone with my thoughts righ’ now.” He avoided eye contact. “Id’s fine as long as I’m doing someding. I’m a, a bid messed up. I haven’ felt this bad in a long time.”

Iris placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, scooting a little closer. “Even more reason not to push yourself. You’re not gonna be able to give if you use yourself up. You deserve a break, probably more than anyone.”

She paused. He looked down at his faint reflection in the murky soup. Dull eyes looked even more tired.

“I’m...going to meet a friend at the chocobo preserve in a few days. Come with.  _ If  _ you’re feeling better, that is.”

Prompto looked up, a bit of life coming back to his eyes. He’d wanted to; he hadn’t been back there in a long time. “Sounds...real good.”

He went to blow on his spoon and sneezed instead. The spoonful of soup sputtered on Iris. She was nearly unflappable.

“...Sorry.”

She wiped herself off with Prompto’s blankets. “It’s fine.” She continued stroking his shoulder. “How you doing on medicine?”

“I’m all set.”

“And these?” She pointed at his septum and nose bridge piercings.

“I’m putting stuff on dem, don’t worry.”

“Okay. The last thing you need is more infections.”

Prompto continued eating quietly.

“Do you want me to stay the night?”

“...Yes, please.”

❦

Far south of the Citadel, beyond the furthest reaches of Insomnian civilization, harsh roads and rigid buildings gave way to dense, barely navigable ruins. Among these ruins of a peaceful society, a blossoming had occurred. Much like the remainder of arable land, the world had been waiting for sun, waiting again to bloom; after the dawn, it exploded again, turning gray lands back to those familiar greens. It hadn’t been long enough for Mother Eos to lose her memory of the verdurous life that had distinguished her among worlds. Thus, old, hollowed out buildings, crumbled tatters of old businesses and residences, vehicles once slick and polished, became host to the type of thing that used to be called “weeds” but was now simply  _ nature _ . Old trees gained new sprouts; new trees sprung up uninhibited, showing their sprightly energy when unimpaired by man’s interference.

It was regarded as nothing less than a miracle.

It was  _ this  _ that gave people hope. Not everybody got to witness firsthand the wellspring of nature’s recovery — the dust-dwelling poor of Insomnia came to mind — but soon they would. Nature was coming.

One great road connected the burgeoning forest to the city proper. Prompto sped down that road, Iris holding on tight, Shelley riding in the new side compartment appropriately geared and goggled, as the single vehicle tore through an otherwise even silence.

The oldest tree in Insomnia still stood. Some years ago, when the Dawn was still young, Ignis had honored this tree, gaining the deep respect of many. He had said that he felt its power, that surely it would be the keystone in the world’s recovery. Thus, people kept the one road to this tree in shape. Surely enough, life sprung up around it.

Here, by the tree dubbed Yggdrasil, the world’s last known wild chocobos made their home.

Prompto pulled over near the sign demarking the limits of the preserve. It read,

_ In memoriam _ __  
_ Wiz Chocobo Preserve _ _  
_ __ C. M.E. 770

That one had been his idea. They had even managed to replicate the font at his request.

Prompto removed his helmet and mask after dismounting. “Looks like they’re being shy today.”

“Huh?” Iris pulled off her helmet, looking around.

“The chocobos. Usually they come right out when they hear the chopper.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Did you tell your friend to meet you near Yggdrasil explicitly?”

“Yeah, but, well… She gets confused sometimes, I think.”

“She a fan of chocobos? Maybe we’ll find her wherever they are.”

Iris nodded.

The trio circumnavigated the tree, walking calmly — they didn’t want to startle anyone, after all — until Shelley suddenly darted off, as even trained dogs are wont to do in new situations.

“Hey!” Prompto darted after her. “Shell, come back!”

The dog led them over crumpled old park architecture, around half-toppled statues, through tall and overgrown grass grasping at statues reduced to stone, until finally they lost sight of her. What they did see, however, through the midday shade of the great tree, was a tall, fluffy patch of black standing out against striking greenery.

“Ah, Nera!” Prompto called. He approached as he heard Shelley barking, reacting as he’d never seen before as she could not seem to calm herself. “Shelley, no! Chocobos are friends!”

“I guess she’s never seen one before,” Iris said, tracking Shelley through the grass.

Both tall chocobo and fleet-footed dog ran headlong out of the high grass into a more open area. Shelley hopped around, tail wagging fiercely behind her as she splayed her paws out. Nera pranced about, both of them encircling each other.

“I think they’re...playing,” Iris giggled.

_ Woofs _ and  _ warks _ were exchanged as the bird and dog kept running around, feathers tousling, tongue lolling. This chocobo was certainly not skittish; it had been pulled from the long dark by caring rescuers more than once. She, of all, helped to spread the love of humans and those that would associate with them among the remainder of her kin.

“Nera’s in good health,” Iris continued.

“Yeah. She’s so excited to have a new friend, I don’t think she’s even noticed us.” A genuine smile brightened Prompto’s face. It did his heart good to see the animals being happy.

“She had lost so many feathers when we found her… It’s a wonder she made it.”

“Black chocobos really are special.”

Prompto walked up to Nera as the two beasts began to calm. Noticing him, she lowered her head to nuzzle against him.

“Hey there, girl,” he said, giving her beak a few gentle pats. “I was starting to think you didn’t miss me.” He threaded his fingers into the downy fur of her gullet. “Still soft as ever. Looks like you have a pretty good diet over here. I’m glad.” Gysahl greens had sprung up in this area as well, ensuring that the birds would be ever well-fed.

Nera turned to the side, assuming what would be mounting position for Prompto.

“Oh, no, no rides today, my friend. We’re all saving energy here.” He pet her wing gently. “‘Sides, we don’t have the gear.”

More large tufts of yellow appeared from around the tree. “Oh, look,” said Iris, “the rest of the family.”

“Saffron, Lemon, Amber, Li’l Sunny!” Quickly they were all surrounded. Shelley couldn’t contain her excitement. Prompto looked around. They were one short. “Wait, where’s Xanthous?”

Prompto peeked around the small swarm surrounding him to see another chocobo a ways off, where some of them seemed to be glancing. Near it sat a small, blue figure on a huge, dead branch.

“That your friend, Iris?”

“Oh!” Iris attempted to wade from amidst the chocobos, waving her hands above her head. “Fiorina! Over here!”

The figure looked their way and stood immediately, waving back. It and the chocobo, Xanthous, walked over slowly. The large avian of mustard coloring stepped with a considerable limp.

Prompto and Iris met them halfway. The chocobo collapsed to the ground as they caught up. “Oh no,” shouted Prompto, going immediately to its side.

“Fiorina —” Iris began. “Fio, do you know what happened to this chocobo?”

“He is hurt,” came a small voice that spoke slowly and deliberately. Prompto looked up to inspect what looked like a young girl, eyes sea-colored, hair sky-colored, dress dull and gray and covered with dirt. The dog familiarized herself with the new person’s scent before losing interest and returning to the chocobos. “I used my last potion on the way here… I’m sorry.”

“I don’t have any, either.” Prompto’s frustration came through in gritted teeth. “Chocobos are a protected species. There shouldn’t be any predators here.”

Fiorina looked at Iris. “Iris… For a while, I wasn’t sure if I was in the right spot. Then I saw the big tree, the chocobos…” Fiorina took Iris’s hand and led her slightly eastward, pointing toward where she had just been sitting. The dead branch, much bigger than one chocobo, lay askew. “The branch had fallen and pinned only his leg… It will heal in time. He is probably thirsty, but I could not give him enough water.”

Prompto tracked a deeper part of a newly-formed stream near a fertile, oversized root and scooped water into his canteen. He served Xanthous, and it was as Fiorina had said; though his leg would take some time to heal, the bird already seemed perkier, attempting to stand.

“Nah, boy, take it easy,” Prompto said, attempting to keep the bird still. “You’ll need to rest if you want that leg to get any better.”

“If only someone would take his own advice,” Iris teased.

“I did rest for once! See, I’m talking normal again.” Prompto looked around for anything else that seemed out of place. “I’ll have to remember to send someone out to check up on the birds. Someone from the Nature Commission should be making regular runs, but…”

“That storm from last week is probably what did it.” Iris observed that the area was kind of a mess; beside the ruins and the foliage that had overgrown what once was a very busy park, a lot of smaller branches were down and other plant parts misplaced. Still, nature had been kinder on this area than Insomnia proper.

“Then no one would’ve made it out in time anyway. But…” Prompto stood, turning towards the girl. “Fiorina, was it? Did you move that branch?”

“Yes… I wasn’t supposed to,” she responded, gripping her hands together nervously, “but I did.”

“Weren’t supposed to…?” Iris stepped closer to Fiorina. “Fio, what are you talking about? Did you suddenly get stronger? Oh, don’t tell me — it’s one of those power bangles, isn’t it?” She tried to see if Fiorina was wearing anything of the sort. “I know how you are about those. It’s not cheating if you need a little extra boost, you know.”

“I was scared… Sorry.”

“What’re you apologizing for?” Prompto finally left Xanthous’s side and approached Fiorina. “You saved this guy’s life.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, a warm smile appearing on his face. “A friend to chocobos is a friend to me!”

“Prompto is a big fan of chocobos, if you couldn’t tell,” said Iris, also smiling.

Fiorina’s eyes suddenly spread wide. “Prompto…?” Her expression shifted to one of confusion as she stared up at him.

“Don’t worry,” Iris continued, “he looks like a total punk right now, but he’s the sweetest person in the world.”

“ _ The _ Prompto…?”

“Heard of me, kid?” Prompto sniffed, rubbing his nose and smiling. He didn’t know where this girl was from, and after spending several years back in Insomnia, it felt strange to be known by people he hadn’t met, even though in the back of his mind he realized that he was a  _ little bit _ famous now. Not that he had a lot of competition...

Fiorina stomped a foot. “I am not a kid! I am twenty-two!”

“Oh.”  _ The same age as Talcott, huh _ . “My mistake.”

“We have met, Prompto!”

“You have?” asked Iris.

“We have?” Prompto scratched his head. “Sorry, Fiorina. Usually I’m pretty good at remembering faces and names. When did we meet?”

Fiorina quietly counted on her fingers. She cycled through both her hands once, then up to two more fingers. “Twelve years ago… You showed up at our cave…”

“Twelve years ago?” In the midst of the darkness. “A cave… Oh. The cave-dwellers. You remember them, Iris?”

“Yeah. They were totally wiped out about ten years ago… Fio’s been on the road since then. The darkness was kind of her coming-of-age.”

Prompto rubbed his neck. “Sorry about what happened.”

“Not all of us are gone… Some of us went to Lestallum.” A spark of hope appeared in Fiorina’s eye.

“I’ve convinced her to move here, finally,” Iris said with a small smile. “The road’s still too dangerous for her.”

“When’re  _ you _ gonna settle down?” Prompto grinned.

Iris stuck out her tongue. “I’m too deep in that merc life.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The blue-haired woman spoke up again. “Prompto, do you remember the Red Giant?”

“Do I ever.” A sincerely sad look took over his expression, but the other didn’t seem too fazed in recalling it.

“What’s this now?” Iris was curious. After all, she thought she’d heard everything interesting her friend had to share.

“Twelve years ago…” Fiorina began. “When I was ten. The generators stopped… The lights went out… A Red Giant appeared underground. We were told to run, but I got trapped. The elders fought it. I thought I told you.”

“No,” Iris said, somewhat stunned.

“I happened to be in the area when the Hunters relayed an urgent message to me.” Prompto stooped down to pet Shelley, who had finally calmed. “Those below-ground settlements… They’d been sure that they would fail eventually, but no one could be convinced to move. Daemons spawned the second the lights went out. When I got there, it was…” Prompto looked to Fiorina before diverting his glance back to his dog. “Well, you can probably imagine.”

“Prompto used a star to save the rest of us!” Fiorina only seemed excited.

The blond scratched his head, almost puzzled. He remembered the kids there being brave, but this memory was nothing if not blood-soaked. He saw that Iris also wore a look of confusion. “She’s talking about Starshell, I think. It definitely helped.”

“It is a new day for me now, thanks to you,” said Fiorina, fists clenched. Her gaze, fixed on Prompto and his dog, filled with determination and seemingly no reservations. “Prompto… I am ever glad to know that you’re still alive...and that you’re Iris’s friend.”

❦

It was a tight fit on the drive back. Fortunately, both Shelley and Fiorina were small enough to fit into Prompto’s sidecar.

“How’d you two meet, anyway?” Prompto called over the rumbling of the engine.

“Kept running into her on assignments,” said Iris. “I was super perplexed at how she always managed on her own. We kinda teamed up on some hunts, but she never stayed for long.” She looked at her and smiled; the way Fio was holding onto Shelley was kind of adorable. “She moves like she has a calling. Must’ve worked out for you, huh, Fio?”

The other woman only nodded.

“Quiet one,” said Prompto.

“Like the first time we met,” Iris teased.

“So you just kind of meet up sometimes?”

“There was a stretch of time where we teamed up together for a good month or two. Other than that, it’s been incidental. But… Well, it’s always an event when we’re in the same sphere, y’know? You could even call what we did ‘fun’ sometimes.”

“Wha, slaying daemons?”

“What did you call it, Fio?”

“Erasing them.”

Fiorina’s voice was small, shrunken and lost to the wind streaming past them. Prompto had slowed their ride just so he could listen to them, but still she was hard to hear.

“Fiorina the Daemon Eraser?” Prompto smiled. “What a pair y’all are.”

“She seemed to get a real kick out of it,” Iris continued. “‘Course, it was just about the only semblance of control over the world that we could affect.”

“It paid off. Don’t forget it.”

Iris grinned at the back of Prompto’s head. “So, get this. I don’t hear anything from her for four years. Sun comes up and I have to wonder if she’s even alive to see it.” She aimed a prying look at her blue-haired companion. “No phone, no radio, no way of knowing.”

“I-I’m sorry!” Fio grasped the dog more tightly. “A lot happened… I never knew where to go…”

“But, a few days ago, a letter sent by chocobo. Addressed to me, of all people! My friend, who I thought was lost, calls me back to Yggdrasil. I’d always told her she could come here when the sun came back.”

“I found out where you were via Hammerhead,” Fio explained, “so I knew it was finally time. I… I am so behind… I want to catch up…”

“You had trouble even recognizing Prompto freaking Argentum. Bet you don’t even know about our king now, do you?”

“There is a king?”

“Dude,” said Prompto, “have you been living under a rock?”

Fiorina clammed up.

“Yes, there is a king,” said Iris. “I’ll have to introduce you sometime.”

The meek woman’s eyes filled with wonder. “You’re friends with so many good people.” She gave her friend a smile. “I hope he would accept me.”

“Don’t worry,” assured Prompto, “you’re gonna be safe and secure in Insomnia. “Hammerhead’s still full of bullies, and Hunters’ HQ isn’t really for you. I’m just glad you found your way here. You’ll have plenty of time now.”

Leaning into Shelley, Fiorina’s eyes floated up to him with a glimmer. On this bike, in that clothing, black and jean and plaid and studs, Prompto looked tough, but his voice soothed her heart. His face, thin with recent sickness and slight malnourishment, lined with metal, could have easily been intimidating, but instead shone with the warmth that always lay just below the surface. She couldn’t see it now, her pilot diligently focused on the road, but the prior vision of it stuck with her.

There he was, a contemporary hero.

“Thanks, Prompto.”

❦

Prompto didn’t hear from Iris or Fiorina again for a couple of days.

By that time, he’d finally felt good enough to train again, though the doctor still recommended that he stayed put outside of proper therapy. He wished he had the magic of a hi-elixir to make him well again; then again, the physicality of his ongoing therapy was a decent distraction from the workings of his subconscious.

He aimed his gun at the further target, breathing out to steady his arms.  _ What even makes those things work now? Magic shouldn’t exist anymore. Not that I’m complaining. No, without that elixir, my ass’d be smoked. _ Prompto concluded that some things were just beyond knowing. Unlike Ignis, he wasn’t quite driven to understand it all...or at least, he lacked that sort of energy.

_ Bang _ . The shot hit its target square.

_ Not bad. They should rig up the moving ones again. _

He reloaded and took aim at the next target.

_ “It’ll never be that bad again.” _

His grip tightened.

He unloaded his clip into the target. Six bullets tore a wide hole through its center.

He tried to steady his breathing.

A voice came over the intercom: “Prompto, you...okay there?”

It felt good. It had felt good to do.  _ Only because it’s meaningless, _ he told himself. This wasn’t combat. He wasn’t hurting anyone. He could do it if he wanted to do it. And oh, did he want to.

He sighed. It was out of his system. “Yeah, I’m good, Faris.”

“All right, just checkin’. Y’know. ‘Cause I...think you got it the first time.”

“I know, Faris.”

As the echo finally died down, a light sound rose from his hip. His phone. 

He pulled off his noise-canceling headphones and answered. “Iris?”

“Hey, it’s late. Are you still at work?”

“Yeah. How’d you figure that out?”

“‘Cause you’re not in your house.”

“And you’re in my house.”

“Yep.”

Prompto spun the gun on his finger. “I’ll be home soon. I just…” Searching for excuses. “I need to wrap up some paperwork. All right?”

“Do I hear an echo?”

“No.”

“Uh, listen, I don’t have long before I have to meet with somebody.”

“Another friend?”

“No, Dino.”

“Aw, Dino’s your friend, isn’t he?”

“...I’m leaving Fiorina at your place.”

“Huh? Wh-why?” Not that he was against it; no, hers would be a welcome presence, some help to fight the cloying loneliness that grew in his apartment day by day.

“I hope it’s not a problem. There’s hardly enough space in Gladio’s place for the three of us, and I’m not sure if he’s keen on keeping her when I leave.”

Gladio’s place was huge next to Prompto’s. He could hardly understand Gladio’s apparent reasoning. “I mean, I guess it’s okay, but —”

“Great! Fio, he said yes. Please thank him.”

A meek voice took the line. “Thank you, Prompto…”

“A-ah.” The pale man laughed nervously. “No problem, Fio. May I call you that?”

“Of course, Prompto!”

“Good. Well, I guess I’ll see you… in an hour…?”

“Yes!”

Iris’s voice butted back in. “Oh, and I restocked your fridge. You’ve been undereating again. I expect you and Fio both to get three squares, got it? There’s no excuse for a member of the Crownsguard to go hungry.”

“Right, right. I’ll be there soon.”

❦

Prompto and Shelley entered through their door to find Fiorina asleep on the couch. Prompto became immediately aware of how uncomfortable it must have been for her. For him, it was fine — its old stuffing was lumpy and coming out at torn seams, and it hadn’t been cleaned for crumbs anytime recently, but they were  _ his _ lumps,  _ his _ crumbs. She didn’t look uncomfortable, though.

It was an odd feeling, seeing her there. He realized just few people he ever had in his apartment. As when Celes visited, he felt strangely exposed.

Deciding not to disturb her, he quietly removed and hung up his jacket doorside, then entered his kitchen to see what foods Iris had brought. A lot of his diet was salad-based; he missed the thick and heavy curries of his youth, Lestallum meat kebabs, rare pastries, sandwiches stacked taller than his torso, but salad was tried and true, not to mention readily available. He had to eat more of it than he had been to maintain a decent energy, however. Iris had apparently stuffed his fridge with all manner of leafy greens and vegetables.  _ It’s Noct’s nightmare _ , he idly thought.

When it had light, the world took good care of itself; this much was apparent when farms began yielding in less than a year. Able folk unfit for the factories were often referred to the farms. One large farm resided within the city, not far from the chocobo preserve; another sat southwest, where post-dawn agriculture had yielded different results. As long as the land was tended, the remnants of mankind would not go hungry...distribution and modern politics aside.

Making his salad, he wondered if Fio had eaten at all.

She could tell him. At some point, she had felt his presence and woken. She rubbed an eye as she stumbled into the kitchen over Prompto’s discarded slippers. “Welcome home…”

Her tiny voice almost startled him. It was easy to forget anyone had been there at all. “Th-thanks. You hungry?”

They shared a large salad as Shelley chowed down on her own food. It would have to be restocked soon.  _ Guess Iris couldn’t find any more dog chow. _

He noticed Fiorina picking the chopped carrots out of hers.

“Don’t like carrots, huh?”

“They’re too bitter, too tough.”

_ Reminds me of someone _ , Prompto thought. A wry grin appeared on his face.

“Prompto… Thank you again. I didn’t know how all this was going to turn out…”

“Don’t worry. We take care of each other in Insomnia.”

“I see…”

Silence.

Prompto hadn’t even had a chance to ask much more about Fiorina. What did she like? Where was she from originally? Most of her life had been darkness, but her face, her eyes, maintained a spark seen in few born before the Fall. It made him deeply curious.

_ I could just ask _ . He could. Iris knew a lot about Fiorina, but, as he’d seen when they met, not everything.

“Fio, where are you originally from?”

“Accordo…”

“Accordo! That’s a long ways off. I’ve been there once.”  _ It didn’t end well. _

“I came to Lucis as a baby.”

“Hey, like me.”  _ Smuggled, actually... _

“Where are you from?”

Prompto paused, stirring his salad idly. He speared a cherry tomato without lifting it.  _ May as well be truthful; it doesn’t matter anymore. _ “Niflheim. That’s where I was born.”  _ Made. Doesn’t matter. _

“That’s  _ really  _ far,” she replied.

“I’m glad you came to Lucis. It’s, well… It’s this world’s bastion of light.”

“I’m glad, too. Death was certain for me otherwise.”

Prompto watched as she finally began eating, the carrots successfully purged from her bowl.

“I’m sorry. Too morbid?”

“Death’s always on everyone’s minds.” A sideways smile.

“I’ve met a fair amount of people who wouldn’t acknowledge it… They seemed direly sad.”

“You owe it to yourself to meet reality head-on, deal with it, get it over with, y’know… That’s how I see it, anyway.” His younger self never could’ve spoken these words. Sometimes his older self couldn’t abide by them.

They ate in silence for another minute.

Fio found herself strangely calm. The Prompto effect.

“Fio, if you don’t mind me asking… Why did it take you four years to come to Insomnia?”

She didn’t answer right away.

“Were you in Lestallum? It’s a pretty safe place to be, but you would’ve heard of the election, the king.” Prompto started toying with his fork. “I know, kings aren’t  _ elected _ , but the whole thing was...kind of put together to suit current needs.”

“No, I was not in Lestallum.”

“And as a naturalized Lucian, you’d receive better housing here than — wait, you really weren’t? Were you still on the road? Living the nomad life? You’re made of tougher stuff than me. Though...you  _ really  _ don’t seem like the nomad type.”

Fio stuffed a large leaf of spinach in her mouth and chewed slowly.

“Where were you, then? Not Hammerhead, I hope. Do I need to go there and beat someone up for you?”

“No, it’s…” Fiorina bit her lip. “I can’t tell you.”

“That’s fine. I don’t mean to pry.” The Crownsguard in him told him to be suspicious of this blue-haired stranger, but her mild nature was so all-encompassing, from her gestures down to the way she ate, that he could hardly bring himself to question her...nor did he have a reason. He thought it most likely that bad memories about that time would haunt her. After all, he knew what she had seen before. He knew well, also, that the Dawn didn’t simply make everyone’s problems disappear.

“Thank you…” She began eating more quickly, like the hunger had only possessed her just then.

After taking a few more bites of his own, Prompto mentioned, “We’re putting on a fun show in a few days. You gotta see — it’s to celebrate how Insomnia is the greatest and safest place to be.”

“What’s that?”

“A gun show! Well, specifically, an event where the Kingsglaive and the Crownsguard — that’s our special forces, if you didn’t know — show off their skills with weaponry. As Crownsguard Chief, I’m seeing to it that it goes off without a hitch.”

“You’ll be in it?”

“You betcha.”

“But you’re hurt…”

_ Has Iris been blabbing to her about all that? Geez, wonder what else this kid knows…  _ Prompto forced a grin. “I’m fine — better than fine, actually. My accuracy’s almost perfect —”  _ standing still _ “—and besides, it’s all just for show. Twirl a gun around and the crowd goes nuts. We’re not running at top speed here.”

“Okay…”

_ Well, at least she’s easily placated.  _ “I appreciate the concern, Fio.” He resisted the urge to ruffle her hair.  _ She’s a grown-ass adult. Get it together, dude. _

“I’ll...cheer for you, Prompto. Or...whatever is appropriate at such an event!”

“Cheer away!”

❦

Sunlight broke across Prompto’s face, a line streaming in from the side of the window blinds.  _ Seven-thirty _ . He rolled onto his back, rubbing his face, looking up at the ceiling. Sticky notes flapped near the air conditioner. His bedroom door was closed.

Sitting up, he kicked his feet over the edge of the bed and sat there for a moment.  _ No time to waste today. Guest and all. _ He thought, perhaps, that this little change might shake his life up enough, pull him out of his funk.

He stood up, stretched for a good thirty seconds, and stepped to his door, swinging it open.

“Good morning, Fio —”

She wasn’t on the couch. No sign that she had ever been there was left but the blanket she had used, bunched up in a corner, and a borrowed book, left open and turned over where she had stopped.

He looked around. Not in the kitchen. Bathroom door was open — not in there, either.

He looked at Shelley, whose tail wagged idly and unknowingly. Dropped to his knees to look beneath the couch. Started checking cabinets, because why not.

“Fio?”

Only silence. The silence of an otherwise empty apartment, not a shared silence over a meal.

“Shelley, where’d she go?”

The dog only walked over and sat beside Prompto so that he could pet her. He did so reflexively; he was suddenly inordinately stressed.

He went back into his room, fished his phone out from under his covers, and speed dialed Iris.

“Prompto, you’re up early.”

“Have you seen Fiorina?”

“Huh? Wasn’t she with you?”

“She’s gone. I didn’t even hear her leave—”

“Hey, hold on, calm down. Damn. You know she’s an adult, right?”

“Yea—”

“I told you, she comes and goes like that. She’s good at finding her way around. She already memorized the blocks around Gladio’s place a day after we got here. She’ll come back eventually. Or do you have any particular reasons to be worried?”

A long pause. “No.”

The night had ended normally. She got tired again after eating, a lucky break for Prompto since there wasn’t much else for them to do, and went to bed curled up with the book he’d borrowed from Gladio. He spent the usual amount of time on his balcony before retiring to bed early himself.

He’d looked forward to sharing another salad bowl with her. To having any company, really — but the mild stranger had left an impression on him.

“Chill, all right? I guess I’ll let you know if I see her.”

“All right.”

_ Click _ .

Prompto plopped back down on his bed.

_ Practice’s soon. _

❦

Fiorina traversed a subterranean corridor, oil lamp in hand. Her instructions had been precise, as was her memory; from somewhere within the sprawling, half-destroyed city, where once the Old Wall had stood, she had entered the only remaining Hall of Fire, where ancient people gathered to worship. Forgotten by time, overgrown with moss, once threatening hallways provided no barrier to entry. She treaded it like it were familiar, just another extension of whatever she called home.

She came to a stop at a great door of stone and steel, above which was inscribed  _ Ignem Cognoscere _ —  _ Know the Fire _ . She lit a match with her lamp and allowed it to fall into the offering cup at the left side; repeated this action for the right. A rumble shook the age of forgotten time off the walls and door as it creaked open, revealing a small room with little more than an unused pyre.

Lighting another match, she took her newly lit flame to the pyre, hoping it would burn. The air here was thick, humid; moss particulates hung in the air even in this formerly closed-off room, catching the newly-introduced light. The whole place seemed desperate for this light, for company, to bring it back to its former glory. As she lay the match at a crook in the pyre, an old phrase her brother had taught her returned to her.

_ If you believe, it will burn. _

The fire took to a log, then slowly climbed to the next; after some time, half the wood was consumed, then the rest. She watched patiently as it grew, letting the warmth and light reflect off of her as she sat near it.

She waited.

_ Obedience, diligence. _

The light of the flames reminded her of flickering screens from her childhood, patterns of light showing her the adventures of far-off people, of creations of fiction. It drew her in, as it always did, when she gave her mind to the flame.

After a moment, a deep voice rose from the fire.

_ “Fio… Fio, I knew I could count on you. You’ve done me proud.” _

“Cali, it has been years, but still I do now know… How does this work?”

_ “It works the same as everything else — conviction. So long as we have the Mark, we needn’t worry. So? What did you think?” _

“Everybody here has been kind to me.” Fiorina folded her hands together. “They worked together to give me food, shelter, and privacy.”

_ “Have you met the king?” _

“No. You did not tell me there was a king…”

_ “A failure on my part, though my reasoning should be plain to you regardless. False lives and all. Did you appear useful to anybody?” _

“What? No… I appeared as myself.”

The fire stirred, dancing like solar flares.  _ “They’ll do anything to keep you so long as you can work for them. I’m certain something you’ve said or done has caught their eye. A kingdom trying to rebuild itself has no room for weak links. They like to pretend, Sis, but believe you me when I tell you they have turned people away heartlessly. Sick people. Weak people.” _

“It really doesn’t seem that way…”

_ “Oh? And what about your precious champion, Prompto, of whom you’re so fond? Did you see more of him finally? What’s he up to? Surely the lad must have been crushed by the pressure of this existence at this point. After all, what’s a soldier without a war? Once he succumbs, once this old-world hero becomes has-been, people will forget him faster than they did the True King.” _

“I didn’t expect it, but he is Iris’s friend.”

_ “Oh, really now? A grand reunion, then?” _

“He is...strong, and utterly kind.”

_ “The kindness of men his age is usually just manipulation.” _

“He is the same age as you…”

The voice cleared its throat.  _ “Fio, I fear that if you do not heed my warnings, someone in this city will end up hurting you. Keep them at an arm’s length. It’ll be some time before I can see you again, and I must have peace of mind. It is not our time yet.” _

“I understand, Cali.”

Fio thought about Prompto’s smile. Of how Iris had hugged him before they parted ways the day she arrived. Of their genuine, almost parental concern for her.

She was not imagining their kindness.

_ “You know what I must do. The fire demands more souls.” _ The flame crackled in a brief silence, burning embers beginning to join the particles of moss. The voice became almost pleading.  _ “Have you heard anything helpful? Anything at all? If I send anymore men charging blindly into the fire, things aren’t going to work out for us.” _

“You want...gatherings.”

_ “People really aren’t supposed to be here, you know. Alive, and everything. Think of the Fall as the number one reflection of humanity’s transgressions — and here they have the nerve to continue trying to exist in the same way they were before. It disgusts me, to be honest.” _

“I know, Cali.”

_ “A false king reigns, and the city of death resists its crest. Remember, we must show them all the way. The mighty will fall, and the world will remember its true existence.” _

He would keep on like this if she said nothing more. “There is to be a gathering in three days.”

_ “A pretty large one, correct?” _

Fiorina nodded. “The ‘Crownsguard’ and the ‘Kingsglaive’ will be there.”

A strange, happy sound emitted from the flames.  _ “That’s what I wanted to hear. They are number one in barring humanity from the abyss. I assume it will also involve this ‘king’?” _

“I do not know much else.”

_ “That is fine. That will do. The fire will tell me the rest. Keep an eye on them, Fio — make sure they do what they’re supposed to do.” _

Fiorina’s eyes, fixed on the bouncing light of the flames, made purple in their blow, grew weaker.

_ “Are you dissatisfied? I thought I’d finally convinced you. I know you have your convictions.” _

“You told me that Prompto was actually a bad person.”

_ “Not so plainly. But remember, he resisted the destiny for humanity, just like the false king, and the True King before him. Search, spend time with him, and you’ll see: there’s darkness in his heart, as every other person. If only he would wake to it, then you, too, would see.” _

She closed her eyes.  _ As every other person… Then how do we decide who belongs to the fire? _

_ “You won’t have to worry about it for much longer, anyhow. Though, if he tries to extricate himself from this upcoming occasion, find out as much as you can about him, his movements, his dealings, who he likes, who he hates. It’s… Well, it’s very important, let’s just say that. He’ll trust someone like you. Likely already trusts you completely.” _

She also sensed that it was true.

“He saved my life, Cali. When you weren’t with me.”

_ “I know. Your life to me is more precious than gold. I’ll ensure that his death is painless. It’s the least I can do.” _

Silence fell. The fire popped, a small dust of embers spurting toward the ceiling.

_ “Looks like it’s time. I’m hanging up, Sis. I’ll leave you to it.” _

As if a gust took it, the flame extinguished itself, leaving the room again in darkness.

Fiorina sat for another moment, lonely, growing cold.

She remembered Prompto’s warm smile.

❦

As voices rose from all around, Fiorina slipped between the columns of the grand mall, searching for Prompto. She would have to get closer.

The stage was set, but people were still preparing for the big show. Perhaps she could find her way backstage. Enough people were out and about to make her approach less conspicuous.

Behind the curtains, Prompto spun both of his guns, taking a cool pose as others walked back and forth. “Bwah! The crowd goes wild!  _ Bwaaaaaahhh! _ ”

“Knock it off, knucklehead,” said Gladio, “before you blow someone’s head off.”

“They’re not loaded yet. And besides, you really think I’m that careless?”

“Get ‘em loaded, then,  _ knucklehead _ .”

Un-posing, he turned toward Celes. “Think you could block my shots like Gladio?”

“What, looking for a new partner?” she smiled. Gladio rolled his eyes.

“I think people would be more impressed if you did it with that tiny sword of yours.”

“I think I’d honestly wind up as Swiss cheese.”

“Aw, don’t say that.”

“But it’s true.”

“Don’t take any chances around this guy,” Ultros grinned. “He’s too hot for his own good. Next thing you know, you’ve got a second mouth. Clean shot, too.”

“Would you knock it off,” said one of the other Glaives. “You’re making me nervous.”

“You’re supposed to be Kingsglaive!” Ultros shouted. “Y’gonna get nervous when our lives are in actual danger? Huh?”

Fiorina approached a masked Glaive standing at the backstage entrance.

“Hey, no entrance, ma’am,” they said, holding their spear outward but upright.

“It is urgent… Please, I need to speak with Prompto…”

“Urgent, y’say? In what way?”

“There is danger.”

“Danger? If there’s danger, we got it covered.” The person gestured toward the other Glaives posted throughout the area, some up above on neighboring structures, some on the ground, their attentions focused across a wide swath of city. “We aren’t sleepers, honey.”

Prompto turned toward Gladio. “Is Iggy here?”

Gladio parted the wine-tinted curtain slightly to peek out. The crowd had grown since last he looked. It was still such an unusual crowd for Insomnia: a mix of faces, of ages, people who had become citizens of the world on the day that darkness fell. All sat in unified anticipation, energies buzzing amid the growing glow of torches and evening-red sun. Everyone sat on the grass, save for one. Ignis sat on a large cushion at the back of the crowd, surrounded on three sides by the remaining Glaives, Cor to his right. “See for yourself.”

The shorter man looked as well.

_ Didn’t think he’d come. _

“Wouldn’t you know this already?” Gladio sounded annoyed.

“Shouldn’t you be beside him?”

“What can I say? I felt like showing off.” The big man took turns stretching each arm, then started heading to the back, where his sword was stowed. “He’s fine with it, so.”

“Why’d he even come?” asked Ultros with a mix of curiosity and disdain. “Does he love listening to the clash of cold steel and gunfire?”

“Probably wanted to be close by,” said Prompto.

“For what?”

“Dunno. Moral support, maybe. He likes talking to people in the crowd, too.” Eyes still fixed on the king through the tiny slit in the curtain, he saw that Ignis was conversing with someone at that very moment.

He didn’t know what to feel.

“Move,” said a stagehand, carrying a small wooden platform. They’d seemed to appear right beside Prompto, startling him. “We’re still setting up.”

“Please,” pleaded Fiorina, “people will be hurt.”

“Eh? What do you know that we don’t know, little girl?” The Glaive stepped forward and grabbed her by the shoulder.

“First of all, I am not a little girl!”

One of the Glaives in the performance slipped their head out from inside the backstage tent. “What’s goin’ on out here?”

“This girl says people are in danger.”

“No, no — see, we’re trained professionals. Everything is under control. Even the ricochetin’ bullets can be controlled by one of our performers. It’s cool.”

“That is not what I meant!” A fire lit in Fiorina’s soul. “People are coming to attack you!” She clutched at her chest, breathing beginning to shake.

“Huh?” The Glaive from inside looked behind him. “Oh, we’re startin’. Take care of it, all right?”

He popped back inside as Fiorina continued to weaken. The other Glaive kept hold of her.

“Hey, are you all right? Need me to take you to the clinic?”

“I need you to listen…”

“I’ll relay the message, all right? You go sit, ‘fore you miss any of it.”

Dejected, Fiorina attempted to regain hold of her composure. She gave the masked Glaive one last serious look before walking into the crowd to sit, close to the front.

She’d keep an eye out for them. She’d know who, when, how.

The curtains parted. To either side of the stage stood a Crownsguard, armed with a gun, and a Kingsglaive, armed with a sword. Like two warriors ready to enter combat, facing each other western-style, they stood at the ready.

The Guard raised their arm and fired. The Glaive swung their sword. The sound that reverberated throughout the mall was shrill; two halves of a bullet toppled to the ground.

The crowd clapped, an uproarious sound. Fio looked around her as people enthused with the opening were already wrapped up in celebration.

Behind the scenes, one of the Glaive performers approached Prompto and the others. “Some girl was tryna get back here. Says somethin’ about some danger.”

“A girl?” Prompto had a feeling, one which latched to his mind immediately. Prompto’s hunches had helped him survive the last 15 years. “Was her name Fiorina?”

“Huh? How’d I know that?”

“Did she have blue hair?”

“Guess you could say it was blue-ish. In the right light.”

“What did she say exactly?”

A shrug. “Didn’t get the full picture. Not entirely sure what she was on about.”

A broadcast came through on the Glaives’ radios.  _ “Glaives. A threat has been issued.” _

Prompto focused on a familiar voice.

_ “As they say, the show must go on. Everything appears to be calm. Keep your eyes peeled nonetheless.” _

Gladio answered back. “Yes, Your Majesty. All’s good back here.”

In the crowd, Ignis was surrounded by two fewer Kingsglaive. He placed his radio into his lap, sitting back straight, tension rising.

_ The city’s best are here. There’s enough Guard on patrol should things get out of hand in the outliers. _

_ I wonder how many there are. Surely they don’t intend on striking again with Magitek. _

_ The Glaive have kept tabs on everyone. Anyone out of place will be spotted immediately. _

_ I can’t have any more people dying. _

_ I can’t rob them of their hope… _

His grip on the radio strengthened.

_ It’ll be all right. _

The Glaive and Guard took a small bow. The curtains closed, then reopened to a new pair: Ultros and Celes. Ultros aimed high and fired his gun; Celes raised her rapier straight above her head, and the fired bullet fell to the ground as if robbed of its energy. He repeated this, firing, poorly performing exasperation through the desire to laugh, as one by one, more bullets fell to the floor.

Shrugging, he said, “It’s a good thing she’s on our side, huh?” eliciting laughter from the crowd. “How y’all doing today? Thank you for coming out to the official first annual Gun Show! Though, I guess there’s swords, too. Guns, swords, whatever, it’s all the same, right?”

People cheered and clapped in response. Ultros stepped closer to Celes and murmured, “Easy to please, just like I like ‘em.”

“They’re starved for entertainment,” she replied. “Nothing’s more entertaining than violence.”

“Ain’t it the truth.” He turned back to the crowd. “Okay, get excited, everyone, because all your favs are here: rifles, lances, broadswords, this magical little number here…” He gestured to Celes, who curtsied. “And let’s not forget our very own living weapons, Big G and P-word! All right, let’s get on with it!”

The curtains closed as applause continued. Celes and Ultros retreated backstage, stickering. Prompto caught Ultros’s arm as he passed.

“P-word? Seriously?” he gave a crooked smile.

“What? Isn’t it catchy?”

“Where I’m from, p-word...kinda means something.”

Ultros shrugged. “I know that already. Time for you to redefine it, I guess! Let your guns do the talkin’, y’know? Or does that just make it worse?” He stuck his tongue out playfully.

Irritation sparked. “Like you’ve got anything better.”

“Hey, see these chompers?” Ultros pulled back a corner of his mouth to reveal the jagged edges of many of his teeth. “I’ve got a bite of a thousand PSI, bub. All else fails, there’s always plan B. Y’know. For Bite.”

Prompto let go of his arm. “Uh… okay, whatever.”

The sound of gunfire and clanking metal subsided, and the curtain fell on another pair, to be replaced with three people.

Out in the crowd, Fiorina kept her eye out for Prompto and familiar faces, unfazed by the performance.  _ They’ve never, ever called off a plan once it’s been set. _ Though, if the fire was aware of what she was doing, then maybe…

_ Bang. _

An ear-splitting gunshot filled the air. Pupils narrowing, she looked around herself to see if it had started while her thoughts absorbed her.  _ Oh no, oh— _

One of the Crownsguard had fired an arm cannon straight into the air. Another was pointing up in the direction it had flown. Silence fell over the crowd.

Stillness.

Utter quiet.

The pointing Guard reached for their sword as a samurai, crouching, patiently waiting, potential energy building for the kinetic whirlwind to follow.

They struck up into the air, splitting the bolt that had been fired several times. It fell to the ground like orange slices, cut perfectly.

The crowd erupted into cheers.

Fio slapped her hands over her ears. She didn’t understand any of this.

Ignis smiled. He spoke to Cor. “That was Guy, wasn’t it.”

“Sure enough.”

“He has a very distinct signature.”

It wasn’t only  _ that  _ sound he was listening for.

Quietly out of adept ears’ reach, a figure skulked near the backstage entrance. The Glaive posted there with his spear turned their head, began looking about; nothing but pillars, torches, and gaunt bushes decorated the area, and nothing seemed to be moving. They still kept their eye sharp behind that mask.

Not sharp enough.

An arm grabbed them by the neck. Another clawed grip clutched their face.

Fiorina couldn’t see now. The people in front of her had stood up despite being nearly in the front, blocking her. Even when she stood herself, they were too tall for her, and too packed in to squeeze by.

The curtains opened on another pair, and an uproarious shout ran through the crowd. Peeking through the people in front of her, Fiorina could just barely make out Prompto and another large figure —  _ oh, it’s Gladiolus  _ — before her view was blocked again.

Onstage, Prompto wielded two guns, standing on a platform, crossing his arms in the same silly pose he had taken backstage. He smiled. The sounds of pleasure rising from the audience was enough to justify this show for him. The people needed something like this to raise their spirits. And besides, he actually was having fun for the first time in a long while. Everyone’s attitudes today had been jovial, and it did a lot for his spirits.

He started showboating a little, spinning the large weapons on his fingers while Gladio shook his head. Prompto suddenly took aim, snapping from his leisurely pose to a stance of action, something he’d gotten so good at doing that he could do it automatically. “Just like old times, huh, Gladio? Training at havens and such.”

A grin spread across Gladio’s face as he posed with his broadsword, acting as if he were about to strike a baseball. “Handing your ass to you… Yeah, I remember.”

Prompto returned the grin as he fired a shot from each gun.

Gladio dodged these shots and again took his pose. “Fake out!”

Prompto clicked his tongue. “Slick!”

People applauded Gladio’s agility. He was much faster than he appeared, fast enough even to dodge close gunfire on lower ground.

Prompto fired again. This time, Gladio sliced through his bullets with keen precision. The severed bullets were collected by Celes’s power before they could fly offside.

“Let’s just say that’s a home run!” came her voice from backstage.

“What’d I tell ya?” Gladio chuckled.

Prompto gave a sideways smile. “You’re the only one in the world who could pull off something like that.”

“Me and the Insomnia Reapers. Six rest their souls.”

“Woooooooo!” The crowd was eating up their performance. It was a mere fraction of a fraction of their capabilities; hopefully, no one would ever have to see them running full-blast.

The two of them bowed as the curtains closed again.

Cor kept his eyes on the broader area. “Everything seems to be going well.”

“Mm.” Ignis made a barely audible sound. He could still sense that something wasn’t quite right.

Fiorina forced her way to the very front row, awkwardly stepping out in front of tall people. The stage was still some meters away for safety’s sake; she kept her focus centered, for she knew  _ they _ were coming.

Another trio of performers came and went, and then it was Prompto’s turn again. As the curtains were to part once more, he found his partner nowhere in sight.  _ Huh, was it time for my solo set?  _ He re-holstered one of his guns and spun the other, posing a huge grin as the audience again applauded.

Aiming high above the crowd, he fired a Starshell shot, which hung in their midst, bathing people in its luminous glow even competing with the setting sun.  _ Oooh _ s and  _ ahhhs _ filled the air, and people began to clap. Fiorina watched it sail overhead, its light bringing her briefly back to a childhood wonderment that had stood out among even fresh carnage.

She snapped out of it as a vaguely familiar voice echoed down the mall.

“Ah, Starshell.”

Prompto looked around him, confusion taking over, then pointed his head toward backstage.  _ We didn’t rehearse this... _

“Beacon to many in those dark times. Your light kept the daemons at bay. How special.”

Prompto crept closer to the back, speaking lowly so that the acoustics of the area wouldn’t pick him up. “Who is that?”

A masked Glaive leapt out, Prompto deftly dodging out of the way. The new addition to the act wielded two daggers.

“Oh, Desch, this isn’t your set,” Prompto said, nonetheless going along with the act and posing with his gun. “Actually, weren’t you supposed to be standing watch? Guess we can do—”

The Glaive leapt at Prompto, slashing precisely at Prompto’s shoulders. Prompto dodged as skillfully as he had switched modes earlier, escaping by a hair as the daggers cut honed slits through the fabric of his coat. Prompto kicked him over and pulled his second gun, aiming as the Glaive tumbled over and flipped back to his feet.

Fiorina’s eyes focused. It was time. She placed her hands to either side of her mouth. “Prompto! It’s him!”

Prompto’s eyes snapped in her direction.  _ Fio. _ He looked back in front of him, hands maintaining their grip. “What’s going on?”

“As you’ve probably figured out, I’m not ‘Desch’. Hurry up and fire.”

Prompto hadn’t another moment to stay confused. He shot away one of the false Glaive’s daggers last-second as he rushed in again, dodging more wild slashing. All the while, the crowd  _ oooh _ ed and cheered, marveling at Prompto’s dexterity.

The man was too close and fast-moving for him to get a precise shot, and he was too close to getting scars that matched Gladio’s. Prompto instead threw himself forward and threaded an arm and a leg around the man’s body, using momentum to throw him to the ground.

Cor stood up beside Ignis, beginning to draw his sword. The people sitting near them looked over.

“Cor, wait.” Ignis rubbed at his beard, mind working.

“Your Majesty, it’s going to get worse.”

“Listen.”

The crowd kept cheering. No one had caught onto what was really happening.

“Wait a moment. Trust in the others.”

Cor sheathed his sword and sat again, crouched on his toes, obviously ready to spring up again at a moment’s notice.

“Go ahead,” spoke the false Glaive, feeling Prompto’s weight on him, his gun pressing against his temple. “Kill me in front of all these innocent people.”

Prompto’s hesitation gave in. He rolled off the man as if bucked, getting back to his feet at the same time as he. His eyes serious, his body tense, his mind ran through all the options of how to subdue this guy bent on killing him without having to shed blood.

He wasn’t prepared for this today. He just wasn’t.

Backstage, Gladio grabbed another Glaive by the collar, peeling off their mask. A familiar face. His relief didn’t show. “Didn’t you see anything suspicious?!”

_ “Lay low,” _ came Ignis’s voice on the radio.  _ “Keep it cool back there. Subdue them without making a bigger scene. We’re on alert out here.” _

“Where did they come from?!” Gladio shouted, to be assailed by shushing.

_ “Noplace obvious.” _

“We’re counting on the guys outside, dammit! Do your jobs!”

Celes snapped back. “Do yours, Captain Amicitia! We have an open backdoor!”

“What about you?”

“I’m on next.”

The false Glaive threw its remaining dagger at Prompto. Before it could strike, it paused in the air and fell to the ground as if its energy had somehow been removed. He threw both his hands up as Prompto took aim again and walked nearer.

“Go, Prompto!” Fiorina cheered.

The curtains closed again, this time hitting them both and knocking them to the ground. Ultros grabbed Prompto, dragging him away from the faker as Celes grabbed the assailant.

Fio looked confused.

Prompto was unresponsive. “Shit. We kinda just knocked him out.” Ultros looked toward the curtains again, hearing the cries of the crowd beyond. They had become utterly caught up in the action and were chanting Prompto’s name. He popped out onstage. “Wow! What suspense, huh? You couldn’t expect any less from our special forces!”

Cheering, clapping. Good. It’s still good.

Near the backstage entrance, Gladio found another shadowy figure worming its way in. It struck at him with sharpened, metal-lined fingers; he stopped it barehanded, grabbing and crushing its wrists as he held it back. “Into the fuckin’ lion’s den, huh? Unlucky day for you.”

Ultros listened to a growing chaos coming from backstage. “We’re having a few, uh, technical difficulties, so if you would just —”

The dark figure came flying from backstage, nearly striking Ultros, tumbling out onto the stage and almost toppling over the edge. Gladio leapt out, sword in hand, planting it in the stage beside them with a heavy  _ chunk _ .

The crowd went into a frenzy. “Woooo! Glad-i-o! Glad-i-o!”

Gladio looked around, pulled from the brink of something bordering on berserker mode. For a brief moment, he had forgotten exactly had been going on. Smiling, he drew his sword out from the stage and held it above his head, laughing victoriously.

After a moment of soaking up the glory, he grabbed the figure by the legs, dragging it backstage, Ultros stumbling behind them.

“Listen, y’all, we’re gonna have to go on to the finale,” Ultros said. “Wait, where’s everybody?”

“Our extras have run off after additional assailants,” Celes responded as Gladio again dropped the figure to the ground. “They’re being subdued as we speak.”

“Good. Finale, then?”

The two emerged with large, dragon-mouthed cannons, centering them on the stage. “All right, everyone!” Ultros announced over the crowd’s noise. “This is it! Uh, thanks for coming! ‘Til next time?”

Aiming the cannons up high, they lit them, then stood back. After moments of delicious anticipation, the cannons began emitting sparks, then fired off blasts almost bigger than Prompto’s Starshell, streaming high above and exploding into fountains of fireworks. The crowd delighted as more followed, further illuminating the sky as it darkened and stars danced into view.

The fireworks continued like this for minutes.

Ignis stood. “Let’s go.”

❦

Prompto came to within the medical wing of Crownsguard HQ. It was merely a room designated for breaks when one wasn’t feeling well; they had but limited supplies of medicines for any lesser on-the-job ailments. Celes immediately pulled Prompto out of bed and got him ice, explaining the situation all the while.

He kept the ice pressed to his forehead even as it melted gradually in the heat of his palm. “How long was I out?”

“Longer than I thought you’d be. You really ought to be getting more rest.”

“Was Ignis here earlier?”

“He was. Rather than wait for you to wake, Cor felt it safer to return His Majesty to the Citadel.”

“Mm. So, about Iris…”

“She found us after the show. The girl won’t even talk to her. She said she is your friend, too.”

“We met just like, a week ago. Why wouldn’t she speak to Iris?”

“Likely trying to protect her.” Celes hesitated.

“Iris hasn’t done anything.”

“I know that. Some would still have her detained. The young ones, you know — they don’t know what she’s contributed.”

They made their way to the area where Fiorina was being held: a corridor with five white doors, each with tiny holding cells behind them. Waiting near her friend’s, Iris stood.

“Prompto —”

“Sorry for the grief, Iris.”

“Never mind that. Why does she only want to talk to you? What did you two do the other day?”

“What? We didn’t do anything! What are you even talking about?”

“All she ever does is talk about you…” Iris sat back down. “She won’t even tell me what her life’s been like since we last saw each other. It’s all, ‘Prompto saved me’ and ‘Prompto must be so brave’ and ‘Prompto is really cool’, like you’re some kind of celebrity.”

Prompto sighed. “I’ll get this sorted out.”

Celes unlocked the door, pulling it open, allowing Prompto to enter. He found Fiorina sitting meekly on a plain chair, presence smaller than that of a mouse. She looked up immediately; her energy emerged as if suddenly waking.

She popped up as soon as the door closed. “Prompto!”

“Hey, Fio.”

“Prompto, are you okay?”

He set his ice bag on the small table. There were a few snacks and water there, mostly untouched. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Prompto, I am sorry.”

“Hey, no problem. Let’s take this slow.” He sat on the bench across from her as she again took her seat. “I hear that you knew something about what happened today.”

“Yes…”

“Does it have anything to do with you leaving suddenly the other day?”

“I’m sorry…”

“Listen, if you’re worried about getting hurt, don’t be. You don’t look like the type to orchestrate an attack like that, so I’m not blaming you. You’re not going to jail. Well, you’re kinda in one right now, but. Y’know. We just want to talk. We’ll see if you can go after this.”

Fiorina folded her hands together.

“Those men we caught were from Initium Novum. Are you also with them? Or do you have ties with them?”

She continued clamming up.

“Fio…”

“I don’t want anybody to get hurt…”

“In that case, you’ll have to tell me something. After all, those could’ve been innocent people they attacked.” He spoke carefully, gently. “We’ve...been kinda having problems with this group lately. If you could tell us  _ anything _ ...”

Fiorina turned her head away slightly.

Prompto thought back to what Celes had related to him previously. About Bertram. Merely telling them his name had caused him to go up in all-consuming flame.

“If you answer my questions, are you going to get hurt?”

“...Maybe.”

“Okay.” An intake of breath. “…Okay. Here’s the deal. I’ll make my questions as vague as possible. Really, anything would help. Just answer what you can, all right, Fio?” He leaned over, placing a hand on her arm. “I don’t wantcha to get hurt.”

Fio nodded.

“All right.” Prompto leaned on his leg, hand on chin, contemplating.  _ She’s definitely connected. Just how connected… _ “Do you... _ know _ anyone in Initium Novum?”

She nodded.

“Are they from Accordo?”

A shrug.

“Do you know the leader? Is it a shadowy-figure-type deal?”

She looked away, clutching the fabric of her dress slightly.

“Okay… Do you know where the bulk of them are located?”

She nodded lightly without looking his way.

_ Yes! That’s good! Well, unless she really can’t tell us. Shit.  _ “That would be really good info for us to have.”

“I know.”

“Fio, I know this must be hard. To be at the mercy of an extremist group like that… One with some kinda power over you… Stick with us. Together, we’ll have the power to overcome them.”

“I really don’t want you to hurt my brother…”

“Your brother?”

“Please… He means well…” She looked back at him, tears welling up in ocean eyes. “He is all I have. He is not evil. Please, Prompto…”

“No one wants any more bloodshed, least of all myself,” Prompto assured. “The world’s hurt too much. There’s been too much sorrow. Now’s the time to unite. I promise to you that I’ll never hurt you or your brother, whoever he is, but...I can’t guarantee what the others will do...what the king might do...in order to protect our people, the people who dwell in the light.”

Her sadness didn’t abate. Prompto looked down for a moment, then back up.

“Do you remember that book I gave you,  _ Fire and Light _ ?”

“Yes… I only read a little of it.”

“I saw where you stopped. I…” Prompto closed his eyes. “I really think you understand. There’s fire in all of us. Without it, we’d be nothing, y’know? Humanity mastered fire and became great. But it’s got to be used responsibly. That’s one thing we’re working on...as the city of light. We have to take care of each other with this light. That’s all there is to it. There’s no need to hold onto fear, moving forward, as long as we unite.”  _ Easier said than done… _

She nodded simply.

“Please, tell me your brother’s name.”

“You won’t find anything…”

“All the better, right?”

“...Caligo.”

“Caligo…”

“He looks...like me.”

❦

Fiorina was allowed to walk the streets of Insomnia as a free citizen.

Well, mostly free.

Aranea, one of the best trackers in the world, was to keep an eye on her at all times when she was out and about. Though Fiorina felt that she was still under harsh suspicion under Aranea’s judging eyes, Aranea’s role was to be more of a guard; after all, were Fio to divulge more information and survive, she was at risk of being targeted. If the Fire didn’t end her, someone would.

Aranea would keep her safe. Fiorina would, for the most part (and for Aranea’s convenience), lay low.

In her designated quarters, Fiorina curled up in bed with her radio. She had it tuned to the channel that broadcast the king’s addresses, replaying the assurances he had issued the previous day.

_ “Let our demonstration embolden your hearts. Ours is the most powerful city on Eos. None could overcome this city, this people — never again. Like a phoenix, we rise, undefeated, darkness retreating underfoot.” _

She stared at the firelight of her beside lamp.

_ No, they’re not to be underestimated. _

She looked up through the window to the few stars shining around the nearby streetlamp. She thought of Prompto’s Starshell. Thought of Prompto.

_ I hope Prompto has a good day tomorrow. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I had some things to do.
> 
> Here I've introduced characters for some Plot Stuff! It gets buckwild later (I've spent the past few weeks' worth of idle time poring over details), so keep your eyes peeled. For now, this was a chapter more lighthearted than, well, almost everything else so far, maybe. After all, life goes on.
> 
> The next chapter is very Ignis-centric and also pretty long. Please look forward to it.
> 
> Thanks for reading this heavy story! I'm so glad anyone likes this besides myself.


	7. A Shard of Brazen Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll live where you live and die where you’ll die, no matter what happens or how I’ll feel.”

Gladio’s little get-together had turned into a larger event than he’d expected.

Almost everyone he knew in the city had come and gone throughout the day. He’d asked for little more than people’s company, something he’d had little of in recent times, but small things accrued here and there as the day went on — the best of it was food. And, of course, more food drew more people. He felt blessed; rarely these days did he get to socialize the way he wanted to, and he had been very sociable in his younger days.

It was nice of Prompto to have brought him some tea. Prompto had remarked on how it helped him sleep — truthfully, he needed something to bring him back down from NRG late at night, but he wouldn’t tell Gladio that — and Gladio had found the gift remarkably thoughtful in true Prompto fashion. However, the blond had been nowhere in sight since the early afternoon. He’d arrived early to help clean up, rearrange things, clear space for visitors, but after that, he was simply gone. The man hadn’t returned any texts, either.

It bothered him immensely. He tried not to let it show.

“Aranea,” said the host, idly swirling his drink in its glass, “aren’tcha s’posed to be watching that blue girl?”

“I am.” She’d already had a few; not that it was obvious. Aranea pulled out her phone with coordinated poise, opening some sort of tracking app and showing him a little red blip over the map of Insomnia. The blip wasn’t far from here. “In her room, like usual. I can’t waste all of my time on that brat.”

“Even if it’s your job?”

“It’s not my job.”

“It is if the king says so.”

“Fortunately, he didn’t.” She glowered at him.

He grinned. It wouldn’t be a proper conversation with her if he didn’t try her patience, and Aranea was nothing if not consistent. “So, in all your time saved from not watching the brat, are ya hitting up a buncha those lady bars?”

“Guess whose business  _ that  _ is.” Aranea shot him a snide look.

“Not mine?” Gladio shrugged. Not that he cared.

“Bingo.” She watched as he took a large swig. “You still hitting the sauce so hard there's barely any left for the rest of us good citizens?”

He gave a satisfied sigh. “Dunno if you noticed, but I'm a big guy. Kinda need a lot for there to be any effect.”

“You must be proud.”

“Have ya talked with Prompto at all lately?”

“Eh, been weeks, probably. What happened to the little shortcake, anyway? Don’t tell me he bounced on you. Didn’t he like this spread? You just can’t get anything better anywhere else.”

“He said he had somethin’. Don’t know what that means. Tried sendin’ a message askin’ if he wanted me to save some of this for him. Ain't heard nothin’ back.” Gladio, not one to really hide his feelings, wore a clear look of discontentment, arms crossing over a broad chest. In a work-induced fatigue, he’d begun to wear out of concern for Prompto, as much as he loved the guy. He was more irritated that his friend was nowhere to be found after he’d gone out of his way to arrange this. He hoped, at least, that Prompto was taking care of himself for once. Nothing he could do about that, though. Baby boy had finally left the nest years back, and now it was up to him. At times, however, it felt more like he’d flown the coop.

“He’s been real chewed up about somethin’ lately,” he continued. “Likes to pretend like I don’t notice. So I go along with it, see, so we don’t wear each other out.”

Aranea side-eyed him. If he didn’t already know, she wasn’t about to be the one to outright tell. “Seems heartbroken about something.”

“About what?”

Aranea shrugged. “What do you think?”

“Just tell me.”

“You know.”

“No, I don’t.”

She couldn’t believe it. “Gee, when’s the last time  _ you _ talked with him? Y’know, really talked? Like adults? Man-to-man?”

Gladio turned away. He hated the way this conversation was going, because he knew she had a point. The two of them hadn’t had a good sit-down in what felt like forever. They hadn't even talked as much as he and Aranea were right now. They had been going hard at whatever tasks had arisen since the cave incident; sometimes it didn’t even feel like they were decades-old buddies, just workers on their separate assignments, just like before. Though, that feeling was that rare creep of anxiety. Of  _ course _ they were friends. They always would be. It didn’t matter what distance life put between them; they would always eventually reunite. They would die for each other.

“You don’t know what’s going on? Maybe you should ask.” Aranea shot Gladio a sharp look. “Long ago, Sunshine used to get so worked up over what you guys would think of him. You might think he’d have gotten over that by now, but if you ask me, it’s gotten worse. He has to get stronger. Or, I guess, remember how strong he is. ‘Til then, you have to speak up. Not that that’s an issue for you,  _ usually. _ ”

“How strong would he need to be, exactly?”

“Depends. What do you think strength is? Is it  _ not _ talking when you know you need to?”

A frustrated grunt. “I  _ invited _ him. He was  _ here _ . We would’ve talked. I’ll talk with him soon. ‘Til then, can you offer me something  _ not  _ vague?”

“Are you trying to minimize how big of an asshole you’ll look?”

“Basically, yeah.”

A huff. “He and the king are —”

“—Here!” A voice broke into the murmur of the small crowd within the apartment. “The king is here.”

Cor and Talcott carried in a large, stuffed, roast chicken on a platter, Ignis following.

“Apologies for the delay, Gladio,” said Ignis with a smile.

“Dude,” said the big man, ogling the roasted bird with delight and something like food-lust. The smell of it already filled the entire apartment; accented with myriad roasted vegetables. “It’s just a small gathering. You spoil me. How’d you make this? Magic?”

“I did have some help from Quina.”

Gladio licked his lips. “Love it. Let’s divvy this up.”

As the chicken was distributed among Gladio’s guests, Ignis came to realize a peculiar detail. The king pulled Gladio to the side and whispered,

“Prompto’s not here.”

“Nope. Left early.” Gladio took a big bite out of his leg of chicken. He’d been saving his appetite for whatever the king would bring with him.

“Ah.” Ignis wrung his hands.

“You talk to him lately? He still seems pretty glum in his off-time. We got him that dog, but I dunno if she’s doing any good.”

“I’m sure she is. Prompto adores dogs.” Ignis took a breath before continuing, steeling his disposition. “Prompto and I...had a disagreement. We haven’t been seeing eye-to-eye lately.”

“Huh. Prompto’s pretty reasonable, usually.”

“...I know.”

“Means it must be your fault, eh?” Gladio playfully nudged him with his elbow. “Whatever it is, he’ll come around.”

Ignis stayed silent, expressionless stare aimed at an adjacent wall, already regretting bringing this up.

“I mean, he and I, we’ve had our own shout-offs, but usually we work things out in the end. Guess I can’t really take that for granted, though. Haven’t had a good sit-down in a while. Lot of shit going on, you know. Somethin’ I’ve gotta make more time for, anyway. Can’t imagine it’s much easier for you. But, hell, I even feel better talkin’ to you right now. You know, hangin’ out, none of that Your Majesty shit. Feels good.”

“Yes, I enjoy it too. I miss the little things, Gladio.” Like talking to Prompto without the air thickening to molasses.

A sigh. “I really wanted him to stay a while.”

“I expected that much.”

“...So, when’s the last time you tried talking?”

“It’s…” Ignis trailed off.

Gladio’s eyebrows furrowed, thick masses almost meeting between fleshy peaks of forehead. “You’ve tried, right?”

Ignis remained silent. There was no good way to answer this.

A laugh burst from Gladio’s chest unrestrained as he slapped a hand over his forehead. “Are we all just a bunch of fuckin’ children?”

Ignis just gritted his teeth.

❦

Prompto slept in his apartment, blinds shut, curtains pulled, dog forming for him an almost too-warm pillow.

Only a day’s worth of sleep, interrupted occasionally by food and bathroom breaks, offered him enough rest to stay sane. He would have to be lucid for the coming days.

Between sleeps, he wondered how Gladio had spent so many sleepless nights, then indistinguishable from the daytime, slaying monsters on little more than old packages of Ebony and, once they ran dry, sheer adrenaline.

_ A wonder he didn’t turn old and grey. _ He always did think Gladio looked marvelous for his age, after all the man had been through.  _ A true Shield. He deserves better than what I've given him. Sorry, Big Guy. _

He began to think of how Ignis had aged.

_...Nothing short of perfect. _

His pangs of guilt subsided quickly.

_ Better get ready. _

❦

Ignis was ever grateful that they had found him a braille translator. He pored over the transcript of his last council meeting, fine raised dots subtitling written words like a lost art helping him recall the finer details of Auron’s points. Auron was the problem child, the one challenging his every option. He was grateful for this challenge; like a sword in the flame, it tempered him deeper in the trials of kinghood. It also annoyed him greatly. Some issues seemed to be challenges only for challenge’s sake.

He shuffled to the next paper in line.  Here began the proposals. An almost overwhelming number of them stood stacked atop those still unresolved and aging rapidly. Every major decision had to be agreed upon unanimously by the council before passing. When the king would insist upon a decision, only then would a vote be secured with more than fifty percent agreement. Auron had been the thorn in his side for the past several, the sole dissenter, insistent upon his ideas. He, in fact, had been the one to suggest this system, saying it was the one he would adopt if he were king; saying he would not be a dictator and favor the council as representatives of the people.

Ignis loved order but hated bureaucracy. That is why he had admired the kingdom of Lucis, the line of Lucis Caelum doing mostly good with nigh-ultimate authority. Were he to claim but an ounce of that true responsibility…

But, still, here in this present reality, the Sector C road reconstruction project may get delayed…as any extra-regional natural research into the state of the animal kingdom… but the proposal to thwart Initium Novum by gutting the poorest sections of Sector B would succeed, were he to allow it. And a sidebar in the bill expanding farm subsidies, another utterly irrelevant provision that any old and unoccupied structures be sealed or demolished regardless of their condition — don't think  _ that  _ went unnoticed.

There's no small print in braille.

He grimaced.

Reaching for the stamps beside him, fingers glided across a label of raised bumps — ⠠⠠⠗⠑⠚⠑⠉⠞⠫ — and took firm hold of it, soaking it in its ink and directing it to the paper with a harsh  _ thud _ .

A red rectangle read,

REJECTED

This sheet would be passed back to the person who drafted the original transcript — usually Talcott, occasionally involving others — and confirm such decisions across documents. Parties involved would be notified. Then, back to the drawing board.

He had come to expect this kind of mundanity as king. Not that he wasn’t suited to it.

Ignis thought back to when he had almost died in a cavern.

...He’d almost died in many caverns.

The memories had a certain fondness attached.

He thought back to the horrors he couldn’t see nipping at his ankles in Cartanica. It wasn’t the first time his life had been saved by Prompto, but it was the first time he had realized just how much it meant. How much it mattered.

They’d asked a lot of Prompto. Truly, every single day since he became a part of their group, they’d asked a lot of him. Without losing pace even once, he’d obliged. Even when Ignis had become a liability, he’d obliged.

Without a doubt, love kept him there.

When Ignis had finally gone to talk with Prompto, Prompto had already left on a mission to Galahd — the name of which had just come up regarding a new development. The land wasn’t terribly far off; he’d be back before he had time to miss him. If he hadn’t already.

He wished someone had told him. He wished the proper communications channels were being utilized.

He wished Prompto had told him himself. He wished Prompto would talk, despite everything.

So much felt like it was out of his hands. Slipping. Just out of reach.

Unlike Prompto, Ignis had only become acquainted with a deep and cloying loneliness later in his life. With the Dawn, he had hoped that the days they would have to be apart were over. This new season of challenge that had overtaken his life would be assuaged by the companionship of those he loved most, short of one, the one whose memory returned to him with each dawn.

Without companionship, he had naught but the sword dangling over his head.

Someone entered the chamber; he could hear light, quick steps, the clicks of thin heels on stone breaking into his thoughts easily. “Your Majesty.”

“Celes, to what do I owe this visit?”

“It’s about the crystal.”

❦

When Prompto returned, buzz about crystals had filled the city streets. The diner at Eclipse had Ignis’s voice on repeat, sounding continuously over dry and musty air, and he couldn’t tune it out.

_ “...waiving the limit on rations…” _ — static —  _ “...two crystals will offer you access to the roya…” _

The restaurateur pounded the radio. “Gotta fix this thing.”

“What’s all this about crystals?” Prompto raised a tall glass of water to his lips. If he couldn’t ignore it, he might as well ask.

“Beats me. I just know that if you find one, bring it to the Citadel.”

Prompto hadn’t heard so much talk about crystals in fifteen years; for deep and visceral reasons, it caused him some unease. Travel had made him too tired to ask around, so he decided if it were important then the issue would still be around tomorrow, so he could wait.

Besides, he felt as if, now, a secret was burning its way through his pocket...

Parting ways from his traveling party, he drove himself the rest of the way home. He kept his chopper locked up in a makeshift garage; his part had been Crownsguard secured to lessen the chance of theft, lest this chopper get chopped up and sold for parts like his first. It was one of the only vehicles in this garage, the rest belonging to other Crownsguard, and one yet-broken truck which no one had found the time to repair.

Prompto kicked his feet up on the arm of his couch as he lay back. He felt especially sore now that he was motionless. He meant to drift off to sleep, but the NRG hadn’t quite worn off; too lazy to drag himself up and make tea, he instead used this energy to dial Iris.

_ Ring. _

_ Ring. _

_ “You’ve reached Iris Amicitia. Please leave a message at the beep. BEEEEP!” _

“Don’t tell me you’re actually busy right now,” Prompto said with an amused grin. “Call you la—”

The line picked up.  _ “Prompto, sorry ‘bout that. You back now? How was Galahd?” _

“Awful. I expected as much, but it’s hard to put into words, having been there now. I can’t believe people wanted to go back.”

_ “I assume you didn’t find anything interesting.” _

“Not really.”

_ “Damn.” _

“Honestly, though, I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.” Prompto tugged at a loose strand of fabric poking out from the couch. “The people made me so uncomfortable. I mean, it’s their home, they can do what they want, but… The place looked worse off than Insomnia.”

_ “Wow.” _

“Yeah. They say time heals all wounds, but in the case of this place, maaaaybe not.”

_ “And they insist on staying?” _

“Yep. I get it, but…”

“ _ From the sound of it, it doesn't seem like Libertus came back with you, either _ .”

Prompto shook his head. “He'd rather help people there now. I think they're in good hands. Y’know, relatively speaking.”

“ _ I'm glad.” _

“Said he didn't see anything out of the ordinary anytime recently, too. Luckily, I don’t think a shadow group would survive there. It’s not, like, Starscourge bad, but the air there makes you feel queasy. Does something to your mind, but not, like, turns-you-maniacal or anything. These are still normal people we’re dealing with, not some sort of mutants.”

Silence.

Prompto idly teased the backs of his lip piercings with his tongue. “Sorry. I know I shouldn’t say things like that.”

_ “I kind of wish you hadn’t had to deal with all that.” _

“I wanted to get away for a little bit anyway.”

_ “Not exactly a vacation…” _

Prompto could hear a door open and shut as Iris spoke.

“I had always been curious, you know. That place had it rough.” Prompto paused, pulling the thread until a tiny gap could be seen.

A deep voice broke into the conversation.  _ “Hey, is that who I think it is?” _ Gladio.  _ “What the hell, man? Finally decided to call? Though I guess you already knew, huh, Iris?” _

_ “‘Cause I asked,  _ Gladdy _ ,” _ she returned with a sting in her voice.

_ “You’ve got no business running off wordlessly in your condition,” _ Gladio ranted on.

“Hey, I gave you words.” Prompto didn’t really know what to say. He didn’t have the energy for Gladio right now.

_ “Ya run out on my party and then I don’t hear from you for days — and if you went that far in that amount of time, you have to have been runnin’ pretty hard. We’re talking water vessels, motor vehicles. What gives?” _ What concern Gladio had was masked by his usual temerity.

“Hey, I had actual work to do, that I could actually do. It kinda came up fast and sounded important. Where it ended up doesn’t matter. And what about you?”

_ “I’m not the one traipsing around the country.” _

“Traipsing? Really?”

_ “Will you two knock it off? Gladio, you’re eating up my minutes.” _

A deep laugh rumbled from the large man’s chest.  _ “That’s a good one, sis.” _

_ “Catch up on your own time, all right? I got him first.” _

Gladio’s voice suddenly filled with bass, as if he were talking directly into the receiver.  _ “We’re going to talk.” _ Issued almost like a threat. Prompto heard the man’s heavy steps trail off.

A small, exasperated sound emitted from Prompto.

_ “You really should’ve told him, probably.” _

“Yeah. So anyway, here’s what’s interesting to me. When I was there, didn’t talk to many people — though I guess you could say, many didn’t talk to me. I looked out of place, I guess. But the people I did talk to mentioned Fio.”

_ “Fio?  _ My _ Fio?” _

“Yeah. Libertus called her the healer. For a sec I was wondering if everyone got her confused with Luna, but there’s no way, right? And he’d know, besides...”

_ “I mean, I have seen Fio do some pretty inexplicable things… It’s why I teamed up with her. But...healing?” _

“Bert said it was more like…  _ stopping _ . Neutralizing, y’know. They said, like… If you put out a fire, you haven’t  _ healed  _ it, but you have  _ stopped  _ it. Said she was like that.”

A pause.  _ “Bert? You're suddenly on a nickname basis?” _

“Hey, we  _ really  _ connected for the few days I was there. He’s a cool dude.”

_ “How on earth did he find all this out?” _

“He showed me this family that needed help for their disfigurement. Now that we’ve confirmed people are still living here and doing… _ okay-ish _ , we’ve kinda got an obligation to help, too, right? Anyway, apparently something happened to them after they went too far south of their town. Something in the ground. They said they had survived this way thanks to a healer. Not that they mentioned her by name, but they way they described her, I knew who it had to be.”

_ “That...would make some sense, wouldn't it.” _

“I can’t help but feel like she’s some kind of secret badass.” Prompto grinned. “Wouldn’t that be something.”

_ “I know, right!” _

Prompto laughed.

_ “How would she have even gotten there, though?” _

“That’s the million dollar question…”

They continued talking at length about the sights Prompto had seen: poisoned lands to the south that nature was slowly healing, burgeoning wildlife again revealing itself to the light, the sight of the southern seas that he hadn’t seen in some years, briefly reminding him of good times at Caem. After a bit, Prompto stopped his thread-fidgeting and instead pulled from his pocket a tiny, iridescent blue crystal shard, rolling it between his fingers.

❦

Ignis clutched a crystal shard in his hand. He couldn’t tell if it was warm or cold; it seemed to be pulsing lightly, expanding the tiniest bit as if it had its very own heartbeat, calm and rhythmic. Something about the shard felt instantly familiar to him; this sense of familiarity had plagued him since the day it was put into his possession.

“So, you’re certain?”

“I have sensed power in these shards,” Celes said. She was the only one with him in the most private of meeting rooms, the same in which he would meet with his council. “This is the only way so many elements of magic can still be thriving.”

“It would explain much.”

Celes calmly sipped her tea, raising a delicate cup to her lips before replacing it. “No one ever did discover what became of the Crystal, did they?”

“Try as they might, no. I’ve thrilled at the possibility of learning, that we might continue to help humanity with its power, since we are still so clearly lacking.”

Celes nodded. “Our chance is nigh.”

Ignis smiled. “Celes, I never asked. You weren’t born in Niflheim, were you?”

“No. I, like you, was born farther east.”

“Often I wonder what has become of it. Though I suppose it was never home for either of us.”

“This is the land that accepted me, so Lucis will forever be my home.”

Ignis’s smile maintained. “I shall send the edicts out, then.”

❦

Thus began the Great Crystal Rush of ME 771.

Those who managed to procure a genuine crystal shard and turn it in to the Crown would be handsomely rewarded. Money, shares of the royal crop, and more were offered, as well as benefits to entire regions — such as ration increases to sections of the city still reliant on them.

Anyone who had anything even faintly resembling these blue shards brought them to the Citadel. Each and every one would have to be evaluated by Celes and either accepted or rejected. Some of the masses, who had never experienced magic, began crying foul, doubting in Celes’s weapon’s ability to detect the magic within these shards despite having seen her power. Yet within a week, three genuines had been turned in — the third of which had been Fiorina’s.

“Fiorina?” Ignis asked.

“The same you spoke with,” said Cor at the throne’s side.

“Your Majesty.” Fio curtsied out of nervousness, eyes meeting the king’s visor, the scars of his left side peeking out against the chamber’s light.

As Aranea guarded the exit behind her, Fio placed the shard on the pedestal before her and stepped back. She, the pedestal, and Celes stood framed by the stairs that led to the throne as Celes lifted her rapier skyward, then pointed it exactly at the crystal.

It responded immediately, an invisible but telling pulse running through Celes’s body.

“It’s real.” Celes hadn’t had any doubts.

Ignis shifted in his seat. “Fiorina, if I may.”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

Voice meek, composure shaky in the intimidating chamber. Everything that stood, tall and erect columns and gilded statues, seemed to encroach on her like a prison, coming to seal her once and for all. Half-destroyed old kings standing between intricate patterns of metalwork made the man sitting between them seem small. Its grandeur minimized the simple request asked of her by this world’s most powerful ruler.

“How long have you owned this shard?”

“I cannot say exactly.”

“Has it been longer than I’ve known you?”

“...Yes.”

“Do you know how many shards Initium Novum has in its possession?”

“No.”

“But you do know that they have them?”

“I wouldn’t be able to tell you.”

“I know—”

“I don’t know how they do what they do,” she continued, cutting him off. “I just know what they want.”

Clear annoyance colored Ignis’s face. “Which is?”

“I believe you know, too. Please… Keep these locked up.”

❦

The Guard and the Glaive both were ordered to keep their eye out for shards. They, if anyone, could recover them effectively.

Ignis had them kept within a vault deep within the Ministry of Science. Tests were being performed on one of them, tests of their durability and limited observances of their magical capabilities. They could only afford to have one out at a time.

With them temporarily out of sight, Ignis would focus, for once, on himself. With their armed forces on alert for both shards and IN, he could heed Cor’s advice to give himself a break before his mental faculties began to fail him.

This advice had come with a gift: a stray black cat that had often found itself near the Citadel, particularly by the statue of Noctis. The king adored cats and, never having had the chance to own a pet, lept at the chance to keep the darling animal with him. It seemed starved for affection and loved to nap in the king’s lap as he took the throne...and, after a while, it seemed to remind him of someone.

The cat would soon accompany him many places except for the kitchen. This animal-free zone had adopted more help in recent times, and Ignis himself felt inclined to lean back into the hobby a younger him had grown to love.

On a particularly calm night, Ignis found himself aiding the royal kitchen in preparing that which would serve the residents of the Citadel.

“Okay,” said Quina, “Left to right: turmeric, paprika, cayenne, cumin, tamarind, cardamom, cinnamon, nutmeg, oregano, chives, cloves. Special labels come soon.”

“They’ll have to be alphabetized,” said Ignis, curiously running his fingers over the differing spice containers. “Where’s the salt and pepper?”

“Behind stove. I move to front.”

Quina adjusted the questioned spices’ locations as Ignis pulled on his apron.

“Been a while, eh?” Quina smiled the smile they gifted many with, spread practically ear-to-ear; their face was more often like that than not.

“Been busy,” said Ignis, finding himself smiling without realizing.

“Must not let ‘busy’ get in way of  _ life _ .”

“What’s on the menu tonight?”

“Garula stroganoff.” Quina gave their slab of meat a good slap. “I handle sauce.”

“Garulas are back on the table?”

“Not endangered! Large herds found north.”

“Good to hear. We’ll be eating well very shortly. It’s a good thing I didn’t let Auron steamroll my initiatives.”

“Keep ears to ground.” Quina navigated the kitchen carefully, weaving slowly around other cooks as they sought to collect and organize the rest of their ingredients. “Not endangered, still vulnerable.”

“Right. Everything in moderation.” Ignis liked talking with Quina. They were always level-headed; he supposed it was the wisdom that age brought.

A few moments of silence passed as the two got their bearings. Ignis hadn’t been around the stove enough in recent times to remember where everything was, but it only took him a short while to get reacquainted with the area enough to begin.

Preheating. Slicing the meat. Cat-pawing to ensure safety. Slicing the mushrooms. Dicing the dill. The sounds of chopping, easy, rhythmic, dull sounds, put him at ease; there was a simple and undeniable pleasure in the act of cooking, a pleasure he found integral to his being. He used to think he only cooked to please others, and the pleasure he got from serving food was great, but doing it again, here, now, for him was much like combing through a sand garden. What could be stressful for many created peace in him.

Into the oven went the meat. A stick of butter went into the pan. A lot of vegetables were added — for efficiency’s sake. They had a lot to make if they wanted to be done by dinnertime proper. This would be their biggest meal in a while. Ignis intended to make it one to remember.

Some boiled noodles and conjured sauces later, the first batch was done. Well, before it could be called “done”, the broth had to be sampled one last time. Ignis and Quina both noticed that something was off immediately.

“This taste… Spicy? Sweet?” Quina pondered aloud. “You add paprika?”

“I’m certain.” Tracing his hands along the counter, he took hold of the last spice he used. “Hold on. Was paprika not sixth in line?”

“It second!” Quina laughed. “Sixth is cinnamon.”

“My memory and my nose must be failing me.” Ignis chuckled; normally this error would have really gotten to him, but the new recipe didn’t really taste bad.  _ Mistakes can pay off, I suppose. _

“No worry,” Quina smiled, bright, red lips brightening their complexion as the corners of their eyes scrunched. “Everyone will love His Majesty’s Special Stroganoff.”

“They haven’t got much of a choice, now, have they?”

“It something new.”

Grabbing the meat for the next batch, Ignis laughed under-breath. “That’s it…”

And people did love it.

It was true: people could hardly argue against any food offered to them, even within the Citadel. But the warmest, most filling meal in perhaps years was a sure hit in spite of the first batch’s oddness. This invention of King Ignis’s could become a signature, should he continue to cook.

He had every intention to. Knowing he had put smiles on the faces of the handlers, the maids, every person who kept the cogs of this building spinning day-to-day, filled him with purpose deeper and more fulfilling than that of the big-picture ruling decisions he faced every day.

Still, he sat lonely, but with Cor, at his dining table. After all, good though it was, this was no special occasion. Cor was never heavy on words, but he was available.

“How do you enjoy it?”

Cor looked up from his dinner with a faint smile. “It’s wonderful, Your Majesty.”

“Cor…”

“What? If someone were to walk in, I have to maintain that level of respect.”

“I feel as though there have to be exceptions.”

“That’s a slippery slope, Your Majesty.”

An amused smile. “You’re not just flattering me because I’m the king, are you?”

“I would never do that.”

They continued to eat in silence.

The silence within the Citadel could be deafening. Though there was bustle into the night within these walls, the aged thickness of them prevented sound from traveling terribly far. All but the Kingsglaive were pretty spread out. Ignis was unsure if he liked it or not.

“Where is Gladio currently?”

“Off tonight. Probably meaning he’s at some bar.”

“Probably too late to summon him.”

“Most likely. Don’t worry. Gladio loves his bars.”

“I’m glad he’s found something he likes.”

Their meals didn’t last long. Both parted ways with a rare satisfaction, and Ignis turned in early.

He lay with his cat, Ater, curled up at his side. The presence eased his loneliness.

❦

Ignis sat in his seat rolling the crystal shard between his fingers.

Its familiarity clawed at him. It had woken him several times the previous night, each just as his brain was about to pull him into deep sleep. He had awoken, and the crystal, pulsing intangibly on the nightstand beside the bed, drew him closer. He did not have to see it to know.

He recalled his meeting with Celes earlier that day.

❦

“There is significant power,” Celes said, the tip of her sword aimed at Ignis’s crystal on the pedestal. Light began to pulse from it with greater intensity as she focused on it.

Ignis could feel the pulsing as though it traveled through the air in physical form. “Cor, describe what’s happening.”

“It started to glow as soon as she pointed her sword at it. It’s sending out waves of light.”

“This sword… I don’t know much about it, but it can feel the power in objects.”

Ignis leaned on his elbow in the seat of the throne. “You once told me that the Niflheim army intended to use this as a weapon against Lucis.”

“It is true.” She withdrew the sword, sheathing it at her side. “What I do know about it is that it was once a weapon of the Lucis Caelum line, long forgotten, having fallen into foreign hands.”

“And when you escaped Niflheim, you stole it.” Cor, as well, knew the story.

Celes nodded. “I managed to barely escape with my faculties. The failed Slave Crown technology found its limitations with me. Still, with a certain war breaking out, and without the skill of an Aranea Highwind or allies of any sort, I could not travel far. I spent a  _ long _ time in hiding. I...regret never having delivered it into rightful hands.”

“King Noctis would have appreciated it,” Cor said, assurance coating his voice evenly. “Still, a weapon like that chooses its owner. Doubtful that you’d be able to wield it this way if it didn’t feel comfortable in your hands.”

“It’s true.” Celes looked again at the crystal. “It seems to have accepted my focus. Otherwise the crystal wouldn’t speak to me.”

Ignis shifted forward in his seat. “It...speaks to you?”

“Figure of speech.” She smiled. “This crystal responds as if living. Even common crystals are capable of this, if they were given power by the aether beyond. Niflheim was performing experiments like these long before they turned mad. Anything to give insight into the Lucian way.”

“Sounds about right,” said Cor.

❦

The throne room now empty save for his presence, Ignis slumped, thoughts rolling through his head.

He clutched the shard in his fist. Its pulsing felt much like a small insect trying to get free.

_ A weapon belonging to the Lucis Caelums… _

_ A familiarity... _

_ “Speaks to you”... _

Ignis held out his left hand. In less than seconds, with a familiar, light burn of not-quite-electricity, something materialized within it, fitting his grip as finely as last he’d held it. A light, familiar weight.

With a gasp, a large, decorated dagger clattered to the floor. So did the shard; both tumbled just feet away, stopping before they could topple down the stairs, the dagger disappearing in a mess of blue sparkles as it came to a halt. Ignis’s hand had rushed to cover his mouth; Cor’s eyes had widened as he watched each precious object fumble.

He held out both of his hands. Nothing.

Cor plucked the shard from the ground and handed it back to Ignis wordlessly.

Ignis set the shard in his lap and held out both hands. Twin daggers filled them. Pressing their blades flatly against each other, the familiarity nigh overtook his senses.

“Old friends,” he said, voice trembling instead of his arms. “That’s where you’ve gotten off to.”

Gladiolus entered the chamber to the sight before him, old, nearly forgotten crossed daggers in his friend’s grasp.

“Your Majesty, it’s —”

Putting away his weapons, cutting off Cor, Ignis took hold of the crystal again and shouted, “Gladio, catch.”

It was an expert throw in Gladio’s direction, one almost too hot to catch. The big man clutched the shard, then opened up his palm to stare. He hadn’t actually touched one of these yet; its strange, familiar signature bore itself into his skin.

“Ignis?”

“Summon your weapon.”

“Huh?”

“Go ahead.”

Switching the shard to his non-dominant hand, Gladio held his other hand out. A mess of blue sparkles later and a large, winged broadsword materialized, falling into his grip naturally with a practiced familiarity that had become a part of him.

“Wh…” Like Ignis, he nearly faltered in shock, but he kept his hold on the oversized weapon. His eyes flashed up at Ignis and Cor in confusion; Cor’s eyes retained their metered bewilderment. “Huh?”

“Get Prompto.”

❦

There was the matter of why Gladio had come in the first place. He pulled Aranea aside on his way and told her to wait near the back of the Archive. He found Iris at the plaza, told her to do the same.

See, people talked. As head of the Glaives, he had an obligation to listen. Idle chatter wasn’t his forte, nor gossip, but this matter was more than just  _ he said, she said _ . This matter eclipsed his entire existence.

He had to protect the king from harm. Even emotional harm.

He had to help his friends, even if they withdrew from him. He could only do what he felt was right.

Prompto’s door swung open to find him sprawled on his couch stuffing jicama chips and reading on his phone. Shirtless, his wound finally looked healed, though his body was pale and gaunt. “Wh… You know what knocking is, right?” He sat up, setting the bag of chips aside.

“Get dressed. Ignis’s requested your presence.”

“Has he, now?” Rolling to his feet, he stretched his whole body as he spread his hands above his head. “Something important enough to summon li’l ol’ me?”

“It’s…” Gladio was still processing what happened. What had to happen still. He looked away from Prompto, then peeked back at him past the corner of his eye.

Prompto read his expression. Had something bad happened?

Without another word, Prompto grabbed his vest and jacket.

❦

As they approached their destination, Gladio stood back.

“The council meeting room?”

“It’s important.”

“You’re not coming with?”

“I’ll be out here.”

Prompto proceeded inside. Gladio shut the door behind him, guarding it with a wide stance.

Ignis sat at the far end of the round table, arms lying on top of one another. Feeling his skin crawl, electricity running up the downy hairs of his arms, Prompto sat closest to the entrance, the chair pulling out with a harsh squeal on marble. Moments of stillness passed, filling the distance between them.

“Well? What do you want, Ignis?”

“Take a look at this.”

Ignis slid something from under his hand across the table. A faintly luminous blue crystal shard came to stop before Prompto.

“I have one of these.” Prompto removed his shard from his pants pocket. The two were exactly similar; both held in each hand, fingers delicately turning them, the feeling of familiarity transferred into warmth. Had he not grown used to his crystal, it would’ve been overwhelming.

“Why didn’t you turn it in?”

“I felt compelled to hold onto it.” Prompto stared into them deeply. Their full beauty was almost indiscernible. He could hardly tell if they were glowing or simply reflecting every light that touched it. “It made me feel less...lonely.”

After a pause, silence broke again. “I understand completely. This one’s been in my possession for over a week.”

“You feel it, too?”

“Indeed.”

Prompto slid the extra shard back to Ignis. He began to wonder just how many of these there were before Ignis interrupted his thoughts.

“Summon your weapon.”

“What?”

“Keep the shard in your hand.”

Light brows furrowing, Prompto did as instructed. Holding his right hand out, a familiar, heavy firearm took form. He gasped, dropping it on the table immediately with a loud and resounding clatter.

It was Quick.

The twins had been separated after Noctis had departed. He didn’t know what had become of the weapon, nor of the many more he and the others once possessed. Silver, his “right-hand man” as he liked to think of it, remained with him; the replica they’d created for him since then wasn’t quite the right weight or fit. But here it was again...the original.

After so long. An old friend that had gotten him through so much.  _ Quick _ .

It faded into blue and nothing as he stared, dumbfounded.

A far voice sounded, and he looked up.

“Convenient, isn’t it?”

“What… What is this?”

“I think you know.”

Prompto stared back at the shard in his hand. It seemed to almost stick there against the clammy skin of his palm.

“This Crystal that was gifted to humanity by the stars, a gift from those above who pitied us…that which is said to hold the heart of the world…it’s still with us.” Ignis turned his shard slowly in his fingers. “It’s guiding our purpose. It’s reassuring us.”

“It’s Noctis.”

Silence. When he looked up again, Prompto could see Ignis clutching each opposing sleeve in his fists. He did that whenever he tried to keep from shaking.

Ignis’s voice trembled. “The...powers that be have deemed fit for the Crystal to remain in this world and give us their aid. That is how I see it.”

Clutching the shard in his hand, Prompto brought it closer to his heart, pressing it to his chest. A strange sensation washed over him, running just under his skin like warm water. He couldn’t help but close his eyes.

“Noctis entered this crystal before our very eyes,” Ignis continued. “All we know after that is that it changed him. It was the key to saving this world. And now, this key can be ours.”

“His power…” Prompto’s voice had begun to waver. His eyelashes fluttered rapidly. “He’s giving it to us… Just a little bit… Just what’s left.” He looked up, smiling in Ignis’s direction. His face also bore a growing smile. “Ignis… Noct is incredible, isn’t he?”

“Knew that from childhood,” Ignis said. “Never took it for granted.”

“So, this means…”

Ignis picked up his shard and summoned a single dagger into his hand. Their familiar curve fit his hands perfectly.

“And Gladio… Why don’t we get him in here, talk about this together?”

“I think he already understands. I...honestly needed to talk with you, alone.”

“I’ve waited to hear you say that.”

“Really? I thought you never wanted me to speak to you again.”

“You know that’d kill me.”

“And myself as well.”

The silence that fell was uncharacteristically awkward. He hadn’t felt this out of place with Ignis since they had first met, the perceived class gap between the two making Prompto feel much like a common goldfish in a grand pond of koi. Ignis couldn’t even appreciate his own brilliance; everyone around him was equally skilled and  _ almost  _ as beautiful. Even now, framed by his own chair of black steel and gold trim, he was almost too much.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about Noctis while in possession of this crystal,” Ignis said. “I still wish we’d spent more time together after his return. Clearly he’d been a changed man. I suppose the world needed him direly.”

“I think about him every day.” A bittersweet smile crossed Prompto’s face. “Kinda hard not to when he’s the whole reason you’re alive.”

“You discount yourself too much.”

“It’s true, though. Everything I’d done since I was ten… All of it…it was for him.” He often wondered if his younger self would even recognize him now. He had transformed himself completely without a single regret. He didn’t think of it this way, but he’d become strong enough to survive the apocalypse.

“You even learned to take care of yourself for his sake.” A soft breath. “Yes. Quite.” 

Prompto sat forward, idly summoning the weapon again, then drawing the other from his hip. “Man. Feels  _ so  _ good.”

“Reunited at last?”

“Mm-hmm.” He then “stored” both weapons, a feeling both familiar and strange after so long. “Y’know, the first time Noct showed me this power, I was blown away. It’s so convenient, right? But also really dangerous.”

Ignis kept still. “Fortunately, he was a responsible sort.”

“He was actually showing me where he kept all his fishing gear. I was laughing so much. I think he wouldn’t store my lunch for me because of that.” He almost started laughing thinking about it again. Phenomenal, cosmic powers… Interdimensional tackle box...

“It was strange, training him when I myself didn’t possess his other abilities. He was very poor with teleportation until not long before you and I met, however.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. He mastered it quite rapidly after that time. He really took his training in stride as well. Respectable.”

“Noct was a real ‘do the right thing’ kinda person. He was really there for us, y’know. We really asked a lot of him on the reg.”

Ignis had felt the same of Prompto. Of all of them, Prompto had known the least of what their journey together meant. He knew it would all work out as long as they all stuck together, and they were all stronger now for it. But…he had been there for Prompto’s transformation. His coming of age as darkness fell. He’d experienced his truest of natures. That nature took to their ever-changing goals both as a group and as individuals. That nature kept him right at Ignis’s side, in spite of everything.

_ Loyalty. _

Or another word that started with “L” and “O”.

Prompto leaned on his hands. “He was just that kind of guy.” He closed his eyes, basking in memories.

“You know,” Ignis smiled, “he was the first to ever call me ‘Iggy’.”

Prompto snorted, sitting forward. “Really?”

“He had a little bit of trouble saying my name when he was very small. It kind of stuck after a while.”

“Like ‘Luna’.” Prompto’s smile, warm and genuine, was lost on Ignis. Or was it? The king’s smile mirrored it.

“For a time, I would insist that he call me by my full name. A stubborn phase, that. He was perhaps too accommodating of me. But he never wanted to displease anybody, so he obliged until I finally relented.”

“I liked that about him, but it would be so stressful, y’know.”

“I had to remind him to be firm in his beliefs. He was, after all, the heir. Once upon a time he wasn’t so timid, but, well, things change.”

“He had good counsel.”

“He would’ve made a better ruler than myself.”

“Now who’s discounting himself?”

A pause. A sigh. “Are you happy with how I’m running things?”

“I’m not complaining, and neither is anyone else, not really.”

“But...are you  _ happy _ ?”

“That has nothing to do with your rule.”

“Prompto… Come closer.”

Prompto complied, sliding out of his chair and walking with some caution to the chair closest to the king.

“Prompto… Are you happy that I am the king?”

The blond looked away, turning his body with his gaze. “I think… I sometimes think things’d be better if you weren’t. Not that things are bad! I meant…with us. We’d be better. It’s selfish. Who better to lead than you, right? You’re making things happen. People...look up to you. The people put you where you are. You can’t argue with that.”

“They look up to you as well.”

Prompto looked down at his hands. “It’s scary.”

“Yes, it is.”

Prompto heard Ignis’s large chair scoot closer. His hand, heavy and warm, met his shoulder. Prompto almost reflexively placed his palm on top.

“Prompto… No crystal shard can assuage my feelings. I miss you.”

“Do you? Has anyone ever truly missed me?”

“How can you even ask that?”

“Well, in M.E. 771, I thought I’d never have to, but a lot of stuff I never thought would happen keeps happening,  _ so _ .”

“Prompto…”

“I miss you too. I hate it. I wish I could fuck off to Galdin Quay or something and forget all about all of this sometimes. But… I can’t. I can’t, ever.” Prompto looked straight at him with eyes that could bore straight into his mind. “I’ll live where you live and die where you’ll die, no matter what happens or how I’ll feel.”

He felt a pair of chapped lips press to the back of his neck, behind his ear. He couldn’t keep a small gasp from escaping him.

“Ignis.”

“I miss you so much, Prompto.”

“I miss you, too.”

As soon as he turned, Ignis’s lips found his. No thoughts of rejection; Prompto opened his mouth to let Ignis inside, grasping at him as the taller man stooped forward into his chair and sought to hold onto him dearly. The king withdrew after only a moment, wearing a small amount of surprise on his face.

“Piercings?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Any particular reason?”

“Uh… No. Not really.”

“Interesting.”

Ignis slipped his tongue back into Prompto’s mouth. The shudder that ran from the back of Prompto’s neck all the way to the soles of his feet told him how much his body had ached for this. Didn’t they deserve it? Didn’t they both deserve a bit of respite? Of fun? Of  _ relief _ ?

Sitting a knee to the side of Prompto’s hip, Ignis did his best to lean and claim kiss after kiss, the movement satisfying as lips crossed continually and breaths exchanged. Prompto threaded his hands into Ignis’s cloak as if daring him to come closer; the chair wouldn’t allow him to be both close and comfortable.

Ignis instead stood, pulling Prompto up with him, powerful arms locked around a waist that felt gaunt even beneath a thick jacket. His grip then slipped lower as he dared pull Prompto’s hips closer to his own, pressing them together firmly with a squeeze to the rear through a thick jacket. Prompto decided to let go of all conscious thinking, irrational fears, hang-ups, just long enough to thread his arms around Ignis, to hold him closer, to kiss along his scars and beard, to thread his fingers through silvery and lengthening hair.

As Ignis pressed into him, Prompto pushed back, turning slightly to lead Ignis into the table. He guided Ignis as he lay back, crawling over him as they scooted further onto their support. Pulling off Ignis’s visor and setting it to the side, Prompto let gravity do the work of pressing his body into his king’s and allowed their mouths to fall back together. Ignis raised a hand to caress a cheek. The vast room seemed to get warmer.

Ignis pulled away his lips with a breath. “Are we alone?”

“Gladio’s right outside that door.” Prompto leaned more deeply to access Ignis’s neck, licking where beard stopped and tender skin lay exposed above the collar.

A sharp gasp. “Suppose that never stopped you.”

He remembered the last time they did this. The first time. Prompto had been  _ so _ insistent, and  _ much  _ less clothed; it riled him up even more than he would’ve been at the mere suggestion. When Ignis had shown any hesitance in their very public and hardly locked spot, Prompto’s had lips curled, and he’d spoken,

_ “You’re the king. Who’s gonna question you?” _

Ignis had disagreed. They had both been buck naked in the next minute.

He squeezed Prompto’s thighs with his own, holding his back tenderly, diving for another kiss. “This is sublime,” he breathed between lapping lunges.

“We’re both still fully clothed.” Ignis could hear the smile in Prompto’s voice.

He chuckled. “Nothing we can’t fix.”

“You’re wearing, like, five hundred layers right now.”

“Only a couple of them are relevant at the moment.”

“True.”

Most of their experiences together were at least partially clothed. After all, who always had the time to completely undress? Certainly not a king and his consort.

Ignis sucked at Prompto’s spider bites before Prompto withdrew. The smaller man sat up, hovering over his king, and ran his fingers slowly over the fine fabric of Ignis’s jacket before unbuttoning it with a skilled swiftness. He tugged the fine shirt and undershirt from inside his pants and gazed upon his taut abdominal muscles divided with ash blonde fuzz. He was overcome with an emotion that he hadn’t felt in a good minute, face painted with it: lust.

“No dawdling.”

“You just don’t like being teased.”

“That, too.”

Prompto unfastened Ignis’s belt, drawing it out elegantly and tossing it anywhere aside, then started undoing his pants. Ignis’s breath hitched with anticipation.

“Prompto…”

“Iggy.”

Ignis felt a hand touch his inner thigh.

“Prompto, I’d thought we might never do this again.”

“In what reality?”

“You were rather sore with me.”

Another kiss was pressed to his lips, teeth catching the upper. As he pulled away again, he placed a finger against Ignis's lips. “Stop talking.”

Ignis was only able to stay silent a moment more as Prompto began to work off his pants. “Prompto, are we —”

“I said, ‘Stop talking.’”

“I am the king. Let me have my say.”

Prompto dropped his hands. “Really, Ignis? You wanna pull this now?”

“If you want me to stop talking, then make me.”

“What?”

“Make me stop talking.” Ignis nodded in the direction of Prompto’s hands, which had come to rest on the front of his hips. “Quickly, now.”

Prompto understood.

Ignis gasped lightly as Prompto grabbed at him. The other’s lips plunged back into his. Blissful. How he'd forgotten about this, the tenderness and the dire heat. He broke away from Prompto’s lips to whisper in his ear: “I want you so much…”

Was it what Prompto wanted to hear?

Yes.

And yet…

“What else?”

A confused breath. “Huh?”

“What else do you want from me?” Prompto looked at Ignis with weak intent.

“I could ask the same thing.”

“Ignis—”

“Perhaps you should’ve let me finish earlier.”

Prompto let go. “What is it?”

Ignis paused for a long time before continuing.

“I’m glad that we’re here, now. Together. Are we going to be all right?”

“You tell me, Ignis. Are you done avoiding me?”

“I’ve hardly been the only one doing any ‘avoiding’.”

“I’m the one who laid up in the hospital for  _ fucking forever _ while you, I dunno, signed some shit I guess—”

“Yes, well, it’s with great misfortune that I must announce that  _ life continues without you _ , Prompto.”

“Well.” Prompto sat up, sliding off of Ignis’s body. “Continue without me, then.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Ignis sat up as well.

Prompto climbed off of the table. “That’s exactly what you meant. It’s okay if you don’t have time for me; I just needed to know.”

“Prompto—”

“It’s like I always thought. You only ever needed me until you had something better. Now you have the whole world...what’s left of it, anyway. Pretty good deal, I guess, since it turns out you...don’t actually love anyone. You only love your sense of duty.”

“Prompto, do you honestly believe that you’re not important to me?”

In the darkness, no answer.

“You said I was doing well as king. Doing this thing may seem to have eclipsed both our lives, our relationship, but — Prompto. Prompto, face me.”

Somehow he had known that Prompto had turned away. Prompto begrudgingly obliged him as the king slid himself back off of the table, readjusting his clothing.

“Do you also believe that I don’t have any other thing of import to attend to? Can you even begin to fathom how tiring all of it is? Yet, we were doing fine —”

“Were we? I’m beginning to wonder.”

“You’re not being fair. I have to undo this mess, I’ve got to balance this realm on my fingertip at all hours, and I can’t make even one slight misstep with you.”

Prompto made his way back toward the main door. The king couldn’t see his scowl. “Ignis, I love you, but I can’t stand you sometimes. And now I know why.”

“Prompto!”

Prompto tried to open the grand door, tugging at its handle. It slacked slightly until it would budge no further, halting with a loud, metallic clang.

“Huh? Gladio?”

“Doesn’t sound like you two have quite finished working things out in there,” came Gladio’s voice through the door. “Let me know when you’ve quit being children.”

“Gladio!” Ignis yelled.

_ Damn, did he finally realize?  _ Prompto thought. “Gladio, open the door right now, dude! This is  _ not  _ what you’re here for!”

“Like hell it ain’t.” Gladio pushed the door all the way back shut.

“Gladio — Gladio, open this door!” Ignis approached the door, placing his hands on it.

“No good — it’s jammed.” Prompto pounded on the door nonetheless, more trying to annoy Gladio into opening it than anything. Not that it’d work. “Gladio!” No answer.  _ Dammit. _

Ignis walked along the wall with a swift step, tracing his fingers along ridges of tall arches until they caught a familiar notch nearer to the back of the room. A button, indiscernible from the stone backing the arch that stood beside it, came to rest beneath his fingers, and he pressed it. The secret passage out of the room slid open simply, stone receding into stone, still in working order even after all this time. Prompto turned to see him enter it and took after him wordlessly.

They reached a dead end wordlessly as well. The door at the end of this short corridor was also jammed shut.

“Whoever’s on the other side of this door, let me out at once!” Ignis nearly bellowed, loudly so that he might be heard through layers of thick metal.

A faint voice returned to him. “Nothing doing. Sorry, Your Majesty.”

“Aranea?” Prompto’s voice filled with disbelief. “What the hell’s going on?”

Ignis beat both fists into the door with a solid pound, the dull sound resonating through the hallway. “Aranea!”

“You two either make up or make out because we need you to shape up  _ real soon _ .”

“Aranea, this is treachery! You know that, right? Guess you don’t exactly have a history of loyalty, do you?”

“Yeah, well, I ain’t doing this for fun.”

Another smaller voice came, straining to be heard through the door. “The sooner you two make up, the sooner you can leave.”

“Iris!” Prompto and Ignis shouted in unison.

“Fuck it out or fight it out — just get it over with already!” Aranea shouted faintly.

Ignis worked at the door’s knob a little bit more before realizing it was utterly futile and turning back in a huff. With a hesitant look, Prompto matched his burning step as his king returned to the main room and began pacing around his seat.

Prompto leaned on the table, watching him pace. He only paced like that when he was really upset — upset without an outlet. They had often been each other’s outlet. They had to get that energy out somehow...on the table, against the wall,  _ somehow _ .

The time for that had passed.

Ignis finally broke the silence. “Well, then, Mr. Argentum. Why is it that you can’t stand me sometimes? Which of my mannerisms has worn your heels thin?”

“Well, sometimes you talk to me like I'm a complete jackass.”

“I'm only  _ talking  _ to you.”

“Uh-huh. And how many times did I skip eating Crow’s Nest just to avoid your weight remarks?”

“Going back that far, are we?”

“Now it doesn't even exist anymore! The only person who has the secret recipe is you, because through some reverse engineering magic you somehow managed to replicate it perfectly, but now you refuse to even make—”

“I can't help but feel like you're avoiding the subject.”

Prompto paused, pursing his lips. “It's just…” Emotion welled up in his voice. He distanced himself further from Ignis. “You don't care. You don't care at all, do you? You’re real good at acting like it, but… I really wasn’t crazy, was I? I was right?

“It’s… It’s why Noct is gone. I mean, we literally couldn't do anything, but still, couldn't we have tried? You  _ knew  _ all of that shit; couldn't you have at least tried to figure something out? But you didn't care, did you?”

Ignis's expression twisted into something indescribable. “See how much you simply ‘figure out’ when the rest of your life is spent in darkness — when all the people who could've helped you are gone!” He approached Prompto, rapid steps filling the grand hall, grabbing his shoulder. “Noctis  _ chose  _ to follow his written destiny. I chose to uphold it. This world — this gift he left behind, that he gave  _ everything  _ for — I cannot let it slip away. Can you not see that? This, what we see on a daily basis, what we take for granted, is all that there is. To insinuate that I  _ allowed  _ him to die, that I would even  _ want  _ him to, that I didn't want to save him when I would let this entire world  _ burn  _ if he so chose —”

Ignis had rarely ever been this upset. The look on his face alone, a look he had likely never before borne and himself would never see, spoke to Prompto. If Ignis could see it, he may not even recognize himself, with tears budding at the edge of dagger-sharp eyes and breath shaking.

“Oh…” Prompto’s voice was small. His shoulders slouched. “Oh. I get it. Yeah. You…do care. About Noct. You're still in love with him.”

Ignis withdrew completely, stepping back. “Prompto—”

“It’s okay. I...I get it.”

“No, Prompto.”

“The way you talk about him, even now—”

“Prom—”

“Your eye practically lights up.”

Ignis’s expression weakened, his eye dulling. “Noctis is gone, Prompto. He’s gone — we’ve been without for fifteen years. He was all but a changed man last we saw.”

“You still loved him.”

“He’s gone. He’s  _ beyond  _ gone. He sacrificed his soul for the good of mankind. It doesn’t even  _ exist  _ anymore. It’s like—”

“Like he never existed?”

“No—”

“Ignis, do you truly believe that he’s gone for good? Do you?” Prompto pulled his crystal shard from his pocket. “Is this what you tell yourself?” He shoved it into Ignis’s hand. “Even now?” He shook his head, gritting his teeth. “Get your shit together, Ignis.”

Something that sounded like a distant explosion sounded in the otherwise cutting silence. Prompto whipped toward the main door just as it opened.

“Did you hear that?” Prompto’s gaze met Gladio’s urgent look, broadsword at the ready.

“Prompto, keep an eye on His Majesty. I’m going to check it out. Stay here.”

Prompto nodded. Gladio departed eastward, hastily sealing the door back behind him.

A few moments of silence fell, a horrible silence that gripped the heart.

“I want to leave.”

Prompto turned back toward his king. “You heard Gladio.”

“I have you. Let’s go. I can’t be in here any longer.”

Prompto had even less desire to stay. He tried the main door again — locked, this time even more firmly somehow. “Shit.”

“The other way, then?” Their only option, really.

They reentered the secret corridor. As predicted, the two women had also departed, leaving the door unguarded — and apparently unlocked, as Prompto tried the door with caution and found it opening to a dark and musty room. The Archive.

The two stepped out from behind a bookshelf-door to peer into the room laden with ancient tomes and spare artifacts, those few surviving the attack on Insomnia of years past. It hosted a heavy air as if to conceal its secrets.

“Well, here we are,” Ignis said, voice low in a chamber that would threaten to swallow it completely. “I imagine if I’d had functioning optics and a way to permeate the dangers of our dark world, I’d have been able to save Noct single-handedly with the information available in this room.”

A gruff sigh. “Ignis…”

“We all know I have but one concern in this world. Why even bother becoming king? Such was never  _ my  _ responsibility.”

“Ignis, why do we have to keep fighting?”

“Perhaps you could tell me.”

“This isn’t just my fault and you know it.”

“Is this the first you’ve admitted  _ some  _ culpability?”

“It’s mostly your fault.”

“You’re being boorish.”

“You’re being...an  _ asshole _ .”

“I can’t believe you.”

“ _ You _ ? Can’t believe  _ me _ ?”

They stewed in silence for moments more as they navigated the dark room. For Ignis, it was a matter of memory; Prompto had only been here once before, and the smell made him want to leave as quickly as possible. He was glad that darkness covered the heaps of dust no doubt hanging in the air.

Prompto, continuing to lead Ignis, opened the next door, which led into a longer connecting corridor, more lit, more inviting. The quicker they traveled, the more quickly this could be over.

As they walked, listening for anything else that could resemble an explosion, Ignis again breached the silent pact of quietness between them.

“You and Gladio used to fight all the time,” he drawled, tracing his fingers along the cold stone of the corridor walls, sliding his palms along every bump of a column. “Didn’t always end with the two of you ignoring each other completely. Though I suppose it’s because it’s beyond your capacity to do so.”

Prompto stopped, turning sharply toward Ignis. “Yeah.”

Ignis bumped into him, his reaction unnaturally sluggish yet still automatic. “Apologies.”

A sound. Prompto placed his hands on Ignis’s shoulders to keep him in place.

“Shut up a minute.”

They lingered as if frozen. The air was painfully dull. No other stirring. Prompto let go as if releasing a hot cast iron pan. They resumed their pace ever slowly, placing their feet carefully one after the other, aware of every step, every inch of surface beneath their feet.

Step by step.

Step by step.

Every step was a step further from Noctis.

Every step was a step closer to being completely obsolete.

Prompto stopped again.

“Gladio didn’t ever make me feel worthless.”

“Prompto, I—”

An explosion shook the room. Though it wasn’t close enough to be damaging, Prompto dove on top of Ignis, spreading his jacket to cover him, as aged stone cracked and tumbled atop them in a spray of litter from loose stone.

Ignis heard Prompto’s breath shake, felt his body tremble. Prompto felt the king’s as well. As the dust settled, he felt the king’s breath slowly return to normal, his heart stilling as silence returned.

Only then did he move. Prompto climbed off of Ignis and stood, dusting himself off. Ignis followed, stumbling as Prompto pulled him up.

“Get ready.”

They emerged from the corridor with weapons in hand. They found Aranea charging at them from the opposite direction, what appeared to be nearer to the south side of the Citadel. “I thought Gladio told you to stay the hell put!”

“Just following orders,” Prompto shrugged.

“Get His Majesty back to his quarters — they’re the safest place for him now. Go!”

Prompto and Ignis complied this time, the Captain leading his king deeper into the compound, no words, only active ears. By the time they reached the last hallway to the king’s quarters, the distant rumbling of dim explosions had disappeared.

Ignis ran just ahead of Prompto, halting momentarily. “I’ve got it from here.”

Prompto watched as he entered without another thing to say.

He stood silently outside his door until nightfall.

❦

It had been a few kids playing with fireworks stolen from the “Gun Show”.

The fires they’d started afforded Fiorina a choice opportunity.

She came to her brother in his chamber. It had been a while; this hiding spot of theirs wasn’t even as nice as the abandoned temples of the Forgotten Way, and it dirtied her established memory of it. Something greater burned in her mind, however.

“Fio! My favorite sister!” he greeter her, standing from his chair, arms spread wide, though not for hugging.

“Your only sister,” she remarked, coming to sit on the chair at his side.

He himself returned to his own seat. “To what do I owe this visit? Don’t tell me someone was able to let you in, and you  _ actually  _ took the chance?”

“I leapt  _ bravely _ , just like you described.” A small but dim smile grew on her face.

“I’m so proud of you. To ‘leap bravely’… I was so afraid of being consumed the first time. The thrill of the flames accepting you, however… Utterly remarkable.”

Cali looked at the forced smile on his sister’s face, twisting petite features.

“Ah.” He raised a hand to his chin. “Something’s troubling you. Well, you do wear it plainly. I thought something might have pushed you here. After all, you are being watched. Or were, anyhow.” He noted the tracker on her ankle, now devoid of any light.

“It’s the king.”

“Ah, yes, the false king who witnessed the end of the line of Lucis. What about him?”

She looked into the near distance, staring at Cali’s stack of books on a desk lit by candlelight. “He… He’s upset with Prompto. Or Prompto is upset with him.”

“Ah! These so-called heroes at each other’s throats, are they? So prone to fighting, heroes.”

“Why would he fight with Prompto?”

“Adult men are often complicated and infuriating. Take heed. Though it’s hard to imagine anyone being upset with cute li’l Quicksilver, now, isn’t it?”

“Ignis is very...intimidating.”

“Yes, well, one doesn’t become a man that powerful without some mettle.”

“I wonder what he did to Prompto…”

Cali crossed his arms. “Pray, sis, tell me how you came upon this information?”

She turned to face him, big-eyed. “Iris.”

_ So she has a use after all _ , Cali thought. “What more did she tell you?”

No words came. It was more of a blankness than a cautious silence.

“You seem to have come here to relay to me that you’re unhappy with the state of things regarding Prompto Argentum and his... _ personal _ dealings, let’s say. Would you like me to take the king down a peg? Because that I can certainly do, so long as you light the fire.”

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt,” she asserted. “I want Prompto to be safe.”

“Sweet babe, he will always be safe,” Cali cooed reassuringly, “but if you need me, you will need to light the fire. Even in this land of light, there aren’t any big enough for us. Remember, when you were lost, I found you in the fire. When things looked hopeless, its flame served us—”

“I won’t light your fires, Cali. The people are tired.” Her eyes bore a determined gleam, almost purple-red in the low firelight. “I can’t talk to anyone else. You’re the only one who will understand my frustrations. If I talk to them, they’ll eventually find the thing that burns me. I thought I could tell you… Surely you could understand this woman’s frivolous little concerns…”

Cali rested his hands upon her shoulders. “Of course I do. Believe me, sis. Few understand emotional compromise more than myself.”

“...I knew you’d get it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was the hardest to write yet, not least of all because of all the stuff I'm making up, but also because of how little we know about Ignis canonically. (December can't get here fast enough...)
> 
> The next chapter just got a little longer, so it may take a bit, too.
> 
> I made [a Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/lilpeachpit/playlist/6gUQ6VQJjZADCAohPoKa7A) for this story. Originally, songs were going to be matched to chapters, but that's just way too tough for this. Feel free to leave suggestions!
> 
> And thanks for sticking with me! As someone who loves love, I promise that it will be worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first multi-chapter fanfic...ever! It's set in the Future King Ignis AU, for which I've now created an actual Series. Expect new chapters on late Wednesday nights (no schedule currently). It's planned to be around 14 chapters total and involves a Lot of Stuff happening as canon-loyally as possible. Tags to be added as it progresses.
> 
> [Callie](http://saturnvalleycoffee.tumblr.com)'s my editor, my friend, my cheerleader. <3 Blame her for this.
> 
> Follow my [spicy tumblr](http://lil-peach-pit.tumblr.com) for what will eventually be more good, good FFXV content...and more!


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